


Integration Sides and What-Not

by Millberry_5



Series: Integration and Co. [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: And gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Forced Nudity, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Isolation, Manipulation, Multi, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Solitary Confinement, Stockholm Syndrome, They'll be added as I figure out and add more mini-series, sometimes depending on the one shot/chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millberry_5/pseuds/Millberry_5
Summary: Slowly accumulating a bunch of bonus shorts of Integration: Aus of the AU, hypothetical future snapshots, or unexplored scenes/viewpoints from the main fic. If you have not read Integration, I don't think these will make much sense, but you could try.Enjoy!





	1. Sick Escape 01

**Author's Note:**

> Sick escape: Where Wenuve sees Obi-Wan in the cafeteria in chapter 26, then shows up like... four weeks later (between chapters 29 and 30) and busts Obi-Wan out. They escape together and deal with Kenobi Luck Shenanigans, which culminate in a pitstop in Hutt Space to get medicine and a few days rest when Obi-Wan falls ill.

Wenuve double checked the pill count in the alley before throwing the bag in a dumpster and tucking the pill bottle into an inner pocket on her jacket.

Lugo Skomin was her favorite pharmacist in this section of Hutt Space, had made a brand on reliable medications and unreliable secrecy, but you still had to check these things.

Wenuve was a little worried about Lugo’s relatively loose lips, but Kenobi really needed the medication, and they should be out of here before any Mandalorians came to the planet, let alone asked around enough for Lugo to say anything.

Wenuve exited the alley and started walking down the street, watching the people and objects in her surroundings. Nothing unexpected for the area, she should have been able to just walk briskly, a disinterested look on her face, and get back to Obi-Wan without- Kriff.

Wenuve quickly ducked into a new alley as soon as she spotted the Mandalorian armor. Obi-Wan’s rotten luck must have rubbed off on her.

She glanced out the alley to see more of this new piece of trouble. Swirling orange and black patterned armor covered a dark brown bodysuit. There seemed to be Togruta lekku peaking out from under the modified helmet. Wenuve couldn’t see any other Mandalorians on the street.

Wenuve turned to see if the street on the other side of the alley was any clearer and came face to face with armor that had been heavily featured in her later current events/culture courses.

~~Her Mand’alor~~  Jango Kriffing Fett.

“Ms. Wenuve Sanmyr,” ~~‘Alor~~  Fett said. It was a polite greeting and heavy command all in one. Wenuve felt herself start to go into the proper bow before stopping herself, gritting her teeth. She wasn’t sure how she was getting out of this, she hadn’t been able to get a flame-thrower yet. She technically had some thermal detonators on her, as distasteful as she found explosions.

Fett’s armor would protect him, she could kick him back, throw the detonator, then run back into the street, the Mandalorian would check on Fett first, right?

Yeah, that would work.

Wenuve slowly reached down to the pocket she was keeping them in but felt a vibroblade against her neck before she could even get close.

“I like rowdy parties, but I think we can save that one for later, right?” the humanoid said as they stepped out from behind her. Wenuve recognized Effao Stirs as she walked around her, sans armor, vibroblade not moving from her neck.

Wenuve raised her hands in surrender as she heard someone else step into the alley behind her. No one on the other side of the alley looked in, or, if they did, they saw Mandalorians and decided to not get involved. Presumably the same was going on behind her.

A foruth Mandalorian stepped in from the far side of the alley, green armor with blue details over a dark orange bodysuit and painted blue lekku trailing out from their helmet and Wenuve recognized that artwork and did they really need to bring those two?

Kanvined took off his helmet as he walked closer.

“Wenuve,” he said, kindly, too kindly. He was a Mandalorian. Wenuve was a fugitive from them. He had no right to be so gentle towards her. It really wasn’t fair.

“It’s time to come back, okay?” He smiled, so different from those in her old merc corps, like an actual friend. Wenuve felt her throat clog and her arms start to tremble.

Vojunn unclipped her thigh holsters from behind her as Sitrs took off her utility belt, taking away almost all of her weapons.

“Where’s Obi-Wan? We know you two made planet fall together,” ~~Fett~~   ~~'Alor~~  Fett said. His voice was reprimanding but not harsh. Wenuve couldn’t help but lower her head in shame and embarrassment.

Not enough to barely escape. Not enough to get caught. Then she had to have doubts. Then they had to come back and reprimand her, not hate her.

“Wenuve?” It was Vojunn asking this time.

“He’s… at the hotel. Sand Lotus. Room 326,” Wenuve responded. She couldn’t exactly leave Obi-Wan alone in his condition. And even if she rediscovered the will to try, she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape.

Mand’alor Fett nodded at this before gesturing at her. Stirs removed the blade from her neck as Vojunn came around to her side, Kanvined walking forward to take her other side, each taking an arm.

“Let’s get back to the ship, okay? We’ll leave once ‘Alor gets Obi-Wan. You can stay with us for the ride back,” Vojunn said cheerily, their tone somehow coming through their helmet. The two started trying to guide her forward out of the alley, but Wenuve dug her heels in for a moment.

“Wait,” she saw Stirs reach towards her vibroblade’s sheath and quickly continued, “He’s sick. I was coming back from getting the medicine.”

Mand’alor Fett nodded at her and her friends let go of her arms. Slowly, she reached up and unzipped jacket. She reached in slowly, noting Stirs’s relaxed posture and steady hand on her vibroblade’s handle, and grabbed the pills.

She deposited them in her ‘alor’s waiting hand and then was whisked out of the alley by Vojunn and Kanvined, both with their helmets on. People darted out of their way as they moved down streets towards wherever the ship had been parked.

Wenuve wasn’t too worried about her punishment, it would probably be bad, but she trusted that it wouldn’t be traumatizing. She just wasn’t sure the same could be said for Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hondo Ohnaka sold them out a few planets ago to save his own hide, btw)
> 
> Also, I have a writing Tumblr now! the-writing-mill.tumblr.com  
> Come talk to me, or follow for updates on this and other fics!


	2. Betting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unseen scene where the "adult" class betted on their teacher and ruler.
> 
> It's all dialogue. First time doing this. Wouldn't be surprised if it's my last. Takes place after chapter 23 and before chapter 31. Please pretend they're all speaking in Mando'a for the whole time.

“So like… they’re fucking, right?”

“Lay!”

“Our Mand’alor definitely wants to, at least.”

“Mo!”

“Oh, come on, Ruusaan. Last week was like… the third time the Mand’alor himself came to escort Adat’juri back. He’s a busy Mando, he can’t do that with just anyone!”

“And each time he comes, he looks at Adat’juri like… kriff, I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Like the loth-cat got the cream. If the cream aged like wine and he got touch it in a proprietary manner.”

“Yes, thank you, Sioth, for that lovely, completely sensical answer.”

“You are most welcome, Sullex.”

“Okay, ignoring Sioth’s weird brain though-”

“I actually really liked that image!”

“Of course you did, Mo. But ignoring it, the facts remain that our glorious leader obviously wants to fuck Adat'juri. The question is, has he?”

“I think you are all blowing this out of proportion. Our teacher is an initiate, still undergoing integration, who was formerly one of the Republic’s best generals.”

“Not like that’s hard.”

“I mean, in Ruusaan’s defense, he didn’t have much to work with. So I’m actually really impressed how many campaigns he ruined and hindered, either as an actual general or just a strike team leader.”

“We’re pretty sure he was also one of the two spies who got the info and figured out we were mounting an assault that would culminate in taking Alderaan.”

“Sioth, Ruusaan, not that you shouldn’t be aware of campaigns, but the Alderaan gambit campaign got scrapped before any of us hit human 10 or equivalent. Why do you know that?”

“…”

“…”

“I like research.”

“I don’t care about campaigns. I care about whether or not our Mand’alor fucked our Adat’juri yet or not!”

“UGGHH!”

“Lay, you also care more about driving Ruusaan batty.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Ruusaan, don’t you dare start giving the desk Keldabe Kisses again. You gave yourself a headache last time.”

“Ah, mama bursa Sullex, it’s been a while.”

“Sioth, it is not my fault I got more braincells than the rest of you combined.”

“Anyways, Ruusaan did raise a good point. We don’t necessarily know if ‘Alor Fett’s attention is because of Adat’juri’s track record or… fucking. Maybe even courting.”

“Courting?! Troz, you sap. At least, I based my question on things we definitely saw.”

“We did not see ‘Alor Fett writing he wants to do Adat’juri either. And like I said, proprietary touches, and we’ve established that he goes out of his way to see Adat’juri. It’s not too far out of the way to think that he’s interested in Kenobi in such a common way.”

“Wipe that disgusting smirk off your face, Sioth.”

“I mean, is it really that hard to think that our Mand’alor paid a bit of attention to General Kenobi of the Repubic, a force-sensitive initiate teaching force-sensitive Mandalorians, found him to be pretty promising, paid more attention, got along with him, then decided to start courting him? And is lusting a bit along the way because Adat’juri is objectively physically hot?”

“Mo, I change my mind. You’re the sap of the class. That sounds like a fairy tale the Tuurla Bes’bev would write based on like… two seconds of footage.”

“And it would be one of their better articles, as it actually sounds possible, if extrapolated.”

“Sullex, I’m honestly not sure if that was supposed to support my idea or disparage it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“… Alright then.”

“I think the first question, though, is still whether or not ‘Alor Fett wants Adat’Juri in a courting, sexing, or just strategic way.”

“Sioth, we all agree on strategy. I think he wants to fuck him. I abstain on courting.”

“Are we… actually betting on this?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“And… Am I bookkeeping this again?”

“Thank you for volunteering, Troz!”

“… Great.”

“Like I said: Mand’alor Fett wants to fuck our Adat’juri.”

“UGGHH!”

“Ruusaan Udu!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, new writing Tumblr: the-writing-mill.tumblr.com (you can even leave me anonymous ideas there)
> 
> (Which I'm open to, by the way, y'all leaving me ideas for what-ifs and what-nots that you want to see)


	3. Finding Boba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone in some chapter of Integration wanted to know if Boba or any of the vode would show up. They did not. No reason Boba can't show up here!
> 
> Warnings: non-graphic description of gore (Obi-Wan sees two bodies, mentions some others)

Obi-Wan looked at the child’s face properly as they struggled. They reminded him quite a bit of Jango, surprisingly. More importantly, however, the kid was obviously malnourished, if not at a dangerous level yet, but had a surprising strength to them nonetheless, kicking at Obi-Wan and trying to squirm out of Obi-Wan’s grip of their wrist.

Obi-Wan eyed the knife on the floor that the child was trying to slowly move them towards in a way they must have thought was subtle.

“I admire your moxie, young one, to try to stab me, but I am not here to hurt you,” Obi-Wan calmly explained.

The child rolled some sibilant sounds off of their tongue in a tone that let Obi-Wan know he was currently getting cussed out.

Human or humanoid, the child looked to be about five human standard. Their clothes were nice and comfortable looking compared to the other refugees he had seen on Kamino. They were probably… well, not very important at the moment.

“Where are your guardians, young one?” the child stilled at that. Obi-Wan waited.

“Kriff. You!” the child shouted as they renewed their struggle. Obi-Wan let them go.

This time, when they charged at him with the knife, he tugged it out of the child’s hands and launched it into the ceiling with the force.

The child froze for a second, eyes widening, before launching themself at Obi-Wan with a feral war cry. Obi-Wan sighed and caught the young child, tucking them under his arm so they could only kick, and started walking.

The next room he walked into answered his earlier question. One body was decapitated by what had obviously been a lightsaber, the other under a shelf with a headwound whose blood had long since dried. The child stopped fighting, still except for their trembles.

Obi-Wan quickly checked the rest of the apartment and left. He started walking down the hallway, down the direction where he hadn’t left the acolyte bodies.

“Do you have any other family? Or was it just them?” he asked, as gently as he could. The child didn’t respond for a moment. Obi-Wan kept walking, the area was still shaking from the fight above.

“No. Just mom and dad.”

Obi-Wan nodded at that and stopped at a lift. It wasn’t operational anymore but using the force to open the doors revealed an intact shaft and no car in their way above them.

“Then we’ll take care of you, little one. Are you willing to hold onto me so we can go up? This area probably won’t be standing much longer,” Obi-Wan explained, setting the child down, holding onto their shoulders as he looked them in the eyes.

The child chewed their lip for a moment, “Are you… not Sith?” they asked confusedly, as well as cautiously. Smart of them to be wary. Obi-Wan smiled, although they couldn’t see it.

“No, little one, look at my armor. You will find me as Mandalorian as my helmet,” he explained.

“But the knife-”

“The Sith are Sith because of how they use the force. Do not be so foolish to think that everyone who uses the force follows their path. I’m Mandalorian. The force is another tool I use, a weapon I can use to fight. Not something that makes me think I’m better than others for it.” Obi-Wan said.

“Okay,” the child said, slowly, still cautious, but less hostile.

“Good. Obi-Wan Kenobi Fett. He/him/his,” he declared, pounding a fist to his breastplate, “and you?”

The child gulped, obviously nervous, but replied in kind. “Boba. He/him/his.”

Obi-Wan nodded his understanding then gathered the boy in his arms and moved to the shaft. He quickly checked his comm and found he still couldn’t get any signal down this far. He started his jetpack and went as far up as he dared.

A few floors before the top, he stopped to hover and used the force to pry open the doors. There were too many fighters above still and he was pretty sure he could hear some individual blasts now. He put Boba down once they were in the hallway and held his hand as they started walking, not wanting to let the child run off.

“So you don’t like Sith. What do you think of Mandalorians?” he asked. Boba was quiet for a moment.

“Mom and dad didn’t like you either. But we couldn’t go to the Republic. A few nights ago, though, we heard about the chancellor’s arrest and this battle. Mom and dad argued. They both thought you guys were better but didn’t want to give up on the Republic,” he grumbled out and yes, this boy really was smart to put that together. And fierce.

Obi-Wan tried his comm again and turned on the external mute once it came on.

“Obi-Fett here,” he stated. There was a responding chorus of relieved swears and exuberant cheers and then he heard the click of another line coming into his unit’s frequency.

“Obi-Wan,” Jango said, tone a delicious mix of passionate and relieved.

“Jango, dear, how do you feel about a kid?” Obi-Wan asked. He could hear the others sputter and laugh at that, but he didn’t really care at the moment.

“I- You know I want at least one. Is this really the time? We thought you were dead or grievously injured at best for the past half-hour,” Jango said, clearly a little off-kilter. And a bit hysterical, he must have scared his spouse. He’d help calm him down later.

“It is actually a good time. I fell down a few dozen stories, found some living quarters. Only one life, small boy, dead parents. He tried to stab me twice,” Obi-Wan explained glibly.

“We’re keeping him,” Jango declared. Which started up another round of laughter.

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, “his name is Boba,” he added, “also, I’m going to make my way back to evac and drop him off, so I won’t be rejoining the battle for another twenty minutes.”

“What?! No! Stay with our kid. And get both of you out of here and checked up on! And no using the force as an excuse for saying you’re not possibly injured again!” Jango demanded.

“’Alor… Both Mand’alor’riduur Alor and Mand’alor, your kid is on the battlefield. This thing is going be over in twenty minutes,” Vojunn said. Everyone else cheered in agreement.

“Fine, that works too. Obi-Wan, get to evac and stay with the kid,” Jango ordered.

A shockwave vibrated the hallway he and Boba were walking down. Boba held onto his hand tighter and started walking a little closer in response.

“Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll see you within the hour, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again: feel free to scream at me on Tumblr, I leave anon on: the-writing-mill.tumblr.com


	4. Sick Escape 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Sick Escape 01, Obi-Wan wakes up, weakened from his illness, to find Jango in the hotel room!

Obi-Wan felt someone enter the room. He recognized the presence. Non-threatening/friendly. That was all he understood before he was fully unconscious again.

The next time he almost woke up, he heard someone shush him and run a hand through his hair. There was a suggestion to sleep and Obi-Wan, too tired to even fully process the words, thought this was a good idea. 

When he finally woke up in the late morning, he was surprised to find his mind clear-headed. A little slow from exhaustion, but no longer fever-ridden. Wenuve must have gotten some good medicine.

Obi-Wan tried tensing and flexing his muscles in turn, trying to figure out how much recovery time his body would need. As long as he was weakened, he and Wenuve would have to spend minimal time planet-side. He stopped his investigation when he felt the arm around his waist shift.

That… wasn’t right. The hotel room only had one bed so he and Wenuve were sharing, yes, but he didn’t move in his sleep and Wenuve was no cuddler.

Obi-Wan reached out with the force and stiffened as soon as he processed the presence surrounding him.

Osik. This wasn’t good. He needed to find Wenuve and get them out of here before Jango could wake up and-

Ob-Wan’s thoughts screeched to a halt as he felt a kiss press onto his temple.

“Jate vaar’tur, ner kad’au,” Jango whispered.

Obi-Wan whimpered in response.

Jango sighed and started slowly running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. “You really shouldn’t have run. Sanmyr’s loyalty to your promise was a good thing, and her skills and moxie to find where you were and get to you were impressive, but you could have told her to stop. Both of you should have dissolved the promise. You knew that, right?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, this was far more dangerous a tone than he would have liked, but Jango wasn’t angry right now, which was better than he could have hoped. Jango did feel disappointed though, and Obi-Wan felt something awful in his gut twist at that.

“Yes, but I also made a promise. And…” kriff, he still couldn’t tell if they had found Wenuve yet, “and you’re right, I was in a better position to stop the escape, Wenuve was just bound by integrity. You’re… she won’t be harmed, will she?” Jango had moved on to stroking Obi-Wan’s side, the other arm still under his neck and across his chest. Obi-Wan didn’t dare try to turn around.

“Her integration will be made a bit more intense, a bit more scrutiny will be needed, not as much as yours has been, but we’ll keep a careful eye on her. This is just a hiccup to be corrected, not a crime to be punished,” Jango explained, almost bored.

“You’re not going to let either of us go, then? Even though we can go so long and still demonstrably not want to join Mandalore?” Obi-Wan asked, some of his hysteria leaking into his voice. He felt powerless, Jango was too strong mentally and even physically at this point for Obi-Wan to use the force on in his weakened state, said weakened state had also sapped his physical capabilities of escape. And Jango had just shown up, taken a spot in bed with Obi-Wan, stroking him like he was trying to calm a misbehaving cat, convince it to come to the vet for shots.

Obi-Wan didn’t want any of these metaphorical shots. He was supposed to be going back to the Republic, the Jedi. Mandalore was tempting in its simplicity, its familiarity, but he wasn’t supposed to belong there.

“Don’t you?” Jango asked, startling Obi-Wan out of his inner monologue, “was it so bad? A peaceful life, fights if you want them, enough food, electricity and water and medical attention provided, ad’ike to teach, books, company. Sounds like a good life to me,” Jango began to rub little circles on Obi-Wan’s hip. Shabuir was enjoying himself.

“Doesn’t matter. I… I’m supposed to be a Jedi. We belong on the Republic’s side,” Obi-Wan said, trying to make his voice steely. He felt like he failed, but he still couldn’t tell if his words were actually slurring or he was still so sick and tired he wasn’t hearing properly. Speaking of…

“Also, as much as I’m sure you missed your bed warmer that you for force knows what reason thinks works better than the technology designed to do that, should you really be in bed with me? The only reason I haven’t jumped out the kriffing window is that I’m sick,” Obi-Wan said.

Jango just chuckled before tapping the night stand, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention to the bottle of pills on there.

“Sanmyr was kind enough to give me the medicine she picked up before going back with Kanvined and Vojunn. You’re not contagious anymore, or even sick, you just need some time to recover,” Jango explained. Obi-Wan screwed his eyes shut at that.

“You found her, then?”

“Of course. We retrieved her two nights ago, would have gathered you and left then if that medicine wasn’t more effective with the patient sleeping and not moving as much as possible,” Jango casually explained before moving. Obi-Wan felt him get off the bed and start walking around the room.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to watch, still wary. Jango went into the fresher for a moment, seeming to check it, before nodding and coming back out. He moved out of Obi-Wan’s line of sight and started shuffling with something on the other side of the room.

Obi-Wan struggled to prop himself up, barely managing to sit after a full minute. Jango had stopped with whatever in the corner and was now sounded like he was typing something. Obi-Wan took a few breaths to center himself. 

Before he could turn his head to look, Jango came back to the side of the room he was facing, a small bag on the man’s back. Jango took the bottle of pills and put it in a pocket before facing Obi-Wan completely.

“Effao is outside. Time to go,” the tone was carefully calm, but very much assured. Obi-Wan couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please. Please just let me go. The Republic will declare me compromised and I’ll only be sent out on missions against the Sith or for domestic missions. I won’t be allowed to use any knowledge against Mandalore. I…” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked as his tremors became unconcealable. Jango looked at him with pity. Obi-Wan looked down only to have a gentle hand lift his face back up, to stare right into Jango’s eyes as the man leaned down. 

“The Republic can say you’re supposed to belong to them all it wants. You won’t have to go back there ever again. There’s no need to worry, if you’re so worried that you’re shaking, then I’ll do what it takes to make sure you’re securely with us, okay?” Jango said, as though consoling him.

“No! No. I’m a… I am a Jedi. You making me learn how to speak Mando’a and your history doesn’t take that away. I don’t… I don’t want to go with you. I want… I need to go back home. To the Republic and the order,” Obi-Wan said, desperate. He wasn’t sure why he was even trying, especially when some of those words felt untrue, but he and Wenuve had spent weeks trying to make sense of what was done to them, to remember who they were supposed to be instead of Mandalorians. He couldn’t just give in to that again. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan stiffened at that, and Jango’s shift in mood that he hadn’t noticed. It was… not angry, but displeased and excited all at once, with the calm determination Jango had in spades covering everything, “I know you haven’t learned enough yet to see yourself as Mandalorian yet. We’ll fix that, don’t worry,” Jango smiled here, it looked cruel to Obi-Wan, “the Republic, the jetiise, they won’t be able to chain you again. I’ll make sure of it. And you’re right, you do need to go back home, so let’s go.”

Jango picked up Obi-Wan bridal style, holding him tightly. Obi-Wan squirmed, not able to do much else, but refusing to not make this at least somewhat difficult for Jango. They made it a few feet down the hallway before Jango sighed and put Obi-Wan on his feet, letting him go.

Obi-Wan took a moment to get his balance before looking up at Jango in confusion. The man, only a few steps away, was still determined in the force, and a bit exasperated. His body language casually ready to move, but also neutral. Obi-Wan stared for a moment.

He took a step back, careful.

He took another, a bit quicker.

The hallway seemed to pitch, and he felt himself start to go down.

The next second, he was pushed up against a wall by Jango, only upright by virtue of being held between the two. He felt his heart race and Jango’s body heat pressed up against him. After a moment, he was able to focus on the other’s eyes right in front of him. Jango waited a moment more before speaking.

“You can let me take you back home willingly, or I can take my pick of the drugs and tranquilizers on me. You’re in no position to get yourself anywhere,” he growled.

Obi-Wan felt the last bit of fight leave him. A year ago, he might have taken his chances in a cat and mouse game against Jango and the forces he had to have with him. But today, he was weak, he was tired, and he had spent the past month and a half desperate, on the run, and confused. He was just… so tired.

“Just…” Obi-Wan let his head fall forward onto Jango’s shoulder in surrender, “just tell me why. Please.”

Jango picked him back up and, after a moment, apparently satisfied with the lack of struggle, started walking down the hallway again.

“Because I want you. As Mand’alor, I want to do well by as many of my citizens as I can, that includes expanding the number of citizens. As Mand’alor, I want Mandalore to be made of beings like you; strong, kind, fire in their souls, manda. As Jango Fett, I want to have you near me. Your sass, your intellect, your little chuckles, I could list all the things I enjoy about being around you when we get back. It would take a while,” Jango chuckled a bit himself and started down the stairs. Obi-Wan did what he could to hold onto the other a little better, tried to stay as still as he could.

“As someone who cares about you… I want you safe and happy. I want you to realize you’re worth something. I did pay attention to what you’ve said during all our lovely conversations. If so many of the people who did it to you weren’t dead, I would be hunting them down for making you feel like you weren’t worth as much as you are. Like it’s okay to just put yourself at risk for those who don’t care. I care. The Mando’ade care. Why? Because you’re worth it and wanted,” Jango declared, fierce in tone and step and he made his way towards the hotel’s front door.

Obi-Wan… had no idea how to process parts of that. Put all of it together and he had even less idea of what was going on.

“Tion gar suvari?” Jango asked, gentle, quiet. Obi-Wan didn’t respond, just turned his head to bury it into the other’s chest.

Jango sighed.

“Tion gar suvari?” he asked again, harder, but still not severe. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond “yes” reflexively but stopped himself. Jango had never wanted to hear the answer he wanted more than he had wanted to hear the truth. Obi-Wan unburied his head.

“Nayc, dar’suvari. N’eparavu takisit,” Obi-Wan replied. And he was sorry, but that wouldn’t change his inability to understand what Jango meant. Intellectually he knew what it meant to be a being who was wanted, but applying that to himself…

Obi-Wan was cut off from his own thoughts at the sunlight that hit his eyes with all the force and unpleasantness of a bantha stampede.

“Dar’baati, you’ll learn,” Jango replied, finally settling down into something approaching happiness in the force as he carried him to a speeder where Effao was cheerily waving at them in the front seat.

Jango carefully placed him in one of the back seats before walking around and putting himself in the other, his bag quickly deposited on the floor.

Effao started driving, and Obi-Wan tried to stay upright and awake, he really did.

But Jango grabbed his shoulder and easily brought him down until he was laying across the back seat, his head in Jango’s lap.

Jango leaned down and whispered, calm and soothing, “it’s okay, ner kad’au, you can rest. You’re with us, with me, you’ll be fine now.”

That was… too much. Too much for Obi-Wan to process after everything, and he had gotten so used to being relaxed around Jango…

The last thing he remembered before he fell asleep again was Jango’s satisfied smile and hand carding through his hair, and the feeling of tears beginning to fall down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to scream at me? Try Tumblr! the-writing-mill.tumblr.com
> 
> Mando'a:  
> Osik - dung (impolite)  
> Jate vaar’tur, ner kad’au - good morning, my lightsaber  
> Tion gar suvari? - Do you understand?  
> Nayc, dar’suvari. N’eparavu takisit - No, I don't understand. I'm sorry  
> Dar’baati - don't worry


	5. Anakin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presenting the most requested thing for this AU! If Anakin lived long enough to reunite in some fashion with Obi-Wan!
> 
> Italicized dialogue is stuff spoken in Mando'a that I didn't want to translate (Mando'a is a non-gendered language unless you consciously add modifiers, so everyone's pronouns are they in this case)

Obi-Wan let himself partially collapse onto Jango’s back and shoulders, taking care not to let his armor hurt his riduur nor get in his way of doing paperwork.

Obi-Wan let out a small groan and Jango chuckled at him.

Then his riduur was shifted enough to pull Obi-Wan’s head, still helmeted, down to touch foreheads.

“Olarom norac, cyariduur,” Jango said quietly, a smile on his face that matched the contentment he was projecting. It took Obi-Wan a moment to recharge and reacquaint himself with that feeling before he could respond.

“ _You know what your positive emotions do to me, dear,_ ” Obi-Wan said, hearing his words slur a bit in the euphoria. He really had a hard time controlling himself when he first reunited with Jango. Especially if he wasn’t staying in their quarters while Jango was gone.

No, leaving to go to a place with no Jango and no objects with his residual presence really did make Obi-Wan miss his spouse.

“ _If you don’t want that, then you’ll have to work harder on not causing them_ ,” Jango laughed back, putting down his stylus to turn around fully.

He reached up and Obi-Wan bent down to give his love better access. Jango took off his helmet before tugging him down into a kiss.

Obi-Wan still couldn’t figure out how Jango made these kisses both fervent, like he was starving and Obi-Wan a feast, and agonizingly lazy and slow at the same time.

Jango finally deemed them reacquainted enough to release Obi-Wan. And Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss Jango again or go for his first proper water shower in two months.

“ _Go shower. I’ll see if the kitchens can spare a droid to bring dinner and finish my work_ ,” Jango said. Obi-Wan nodded, quite liking the idea, and leaned down to give Jango a quick peck on the lips before going to the bathroom.

Cleaning his armor and setting it to dry and air of course added to the amount of time he needed in the bathroom, to the point that by the time he had done that, showered, put his armor away in the closet, and dressed, Jango already had dinner set out at the low table.

He took his usual seat across from Jango, and felt the one of the man’s legs move to rest against his as soon as he settled.

Dinner was relatively quiet, they had been calling each other frequently on campaign, and Obi-Wan was giving his official report to the council in the morning. But it was rare that they got to be quiet, or alone together. So dinner with each other’s company was more than enough for the moment.

After dinner, Jango took a book off their shelves and presented it to Obi-Wan. He had gotten an extra week due to an earlier return to peruse the library, so Obi-Wan suspected it would be very interesting and well-written.

He let Jango drag him onto the couch. Let Jango arrange them so Obi-Wan could read while Jango pulled him back into his chest, arms holding him close and legs barricading him inside of Jango’s hold.

Obi-Wan relaxed back into the hold and started reading. The book was about Mandalorian armor. The history of the technology, what influenced changes and what elements Mandalorians had kept around for years.

Jango was murmuring low next to his ear in Mando’a, but wasn’t expecting Obi-Wan to listen, let alone respond. Obi-Wan focused on his book, only hearing a word once in a while, usually “ner”.

Eventually, Jango started planting kisses on his neck, sometimes stopping to nuzzle.

Obi-Wan only made it three minutes before turning off the book and craning his neck to give Jango better access.

 

* * *

 

Later, cuddling in bed chest to chest, almost ready to sleep, Jango made a request.

“Obi?”

“’Lek?”

“ _Apologies, I was a bit caught up in the reunion. We have another force user in an intense integration program. They were a Jedi like you but they’re having a lot more trouble. Would you be willing to talk to them tomorrow? After the meeting?_ ” Jango asked, sated voice slurring since they were both ready to doze off.

Another former Jedi…

“ _Of course, dear. The Republic encourages Jedi to consider Mandalorians as an antithesis to them. Talking with another force-sensitive Mandalorian will help them a lot, I’m sure,_ ” he agreed.

 

* * *

 

He still missed the Jedi, sometimes. Not the order as much, but the beings in it.

No, the organization that let itself and its members be chained to the senate’s whims, its mercurial policies, that he didn’t miss.

But the good people who had raised him? He had been raised with? Even helped raise? Those he wished he could bring over to Mandalore.

Anakin, the boy he had raised, especially.

He knew Anakin would do so well as a Mandalorian. And his leaving had probably hurt Anakin so much. His poor nova had lost so many of those he cared about.

Even knowing his growing affection for Padme at the time, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but sometimes wish it was Anakin that had been captured and given a home in Mandalore. He often thought Anakin deserved it more than him when thinking about the child he’d had to leave behind.

But as weak as the Republic was, as strong as Mandalore was; Coruscant, the Jedi temple, Anakin, they were all too far away. Someday Mandalore would add them to the empire, but he and Anakin and Jango would be long dead before that.

He’d be happier if he managed to bring a Jedi back with him when he actually got to go campaign. But it seemed that the Jedi had an automatic retreat order for when he showed up on the battlefield after only a few battles on this campaign, despite it being only his third and he hadn’t let anyone see him without his buy’ce. Sometimes the Jedi would take their entire units with them, more often another commander would continue leading the Republic forces.

Obi-Wan broke out of his internal musings as Jango turned them down the force-sensitive initiates’ hall.

“ _It’s been quite some time since I was here_ ,” he commented.

“Hmm… _The first sassings. I remember them fondly_ ,” Jango replied, releasing a soft roll of lively pleasure. Obi-Wan chuckled as he lightly elbowed Jango in the ribs.

They came to a stop outside the door, the screen beside showing a notice that the occupant was currently in a remedial class.

“Osik,” Jango bit out, somewhere between surprised and exasperated.

“ _To remedial, then?_ ” Obi-Wan sighed.

“ _Yeah, they’ve had to go a lot. I know they were a Jedi, but they’re quite different from you_ ,” Jango explained as they started walking, “ _they seem to have a personal grudge against all of Mandalore. Which makes them easier to point out a different way of life to, but the anti-Mandalore stance is proving to make things difficult. Especially since they’re accused us of killing their master. They’re a knight though, didn’t come with a braid, so who knows who we may or may not have killed_.”

Obi-Wan hummed in lieu of responding.

Eventually, they managed to make their way to the area that hosted remedial classes.

Phas, who had been unwillingly promoted to chair of the integration programs a few months ago, eventually found them.

“You’re here for the force-user, then?” she asked.

“Correct. Where?” Jango responded.

Phas sighed before motioning for them to follow her.

Obi-Wan realized why she seemed so overdone with the situation as she led them to a hallway of what were essentially interrogation rooms. Used for, well, interrogating initiates to figure out why they were resisting. Jango had let him look at some records, usually being sent to these three times meant you were going to be removed.

“And what is the name of this one? Pronouns?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Unknown. They refuse to give those. They will only declare hatred for Mandalore, critique, accuse us of killing their master, and insult,” Phas explained.

“They entered the program three weeks ago, yes?” Jango asked.

“Yes. They still won’t socialize to any peers on the rare occasions they make it to lunch. This is their second time being sent to interrogative-discovery remedial,” Phas answered.

They turned a corner to go down another hall of similar cells.

“The last cell on the left. It’s our only one set up for force-sensitives,” Phas said, handing Jango a pass card and a data pad with a data stick stuck in it, “there’s not really anything else on their file beside a picture, but technically you should have that. Good luck.”

Phas gave them a respectful bow and turned back, leaving them alone.

“Ready?” Jango asked, giving his arm a light squeeze.

Obi-Wan nodded back and they began walking again.

He looked down at the clothes he was wearing. A green high-necked shirt covered by a blue tunic, that was essentially a Jedi cut. Black leather belts, a main one around his waist with a few more connected to hold extra pouches, filled with daily supplies (including weapons, always be prepared for a fight). Black leather pants tucked into green boots, Jango had insisted on gifting him the pair after he killed some sort of reptilian fauna a while back, apparently the skin made for good shoes in Jango’s mind.

It should be familiar enough to the former Jedi, he figured.

Obi-Wan unholstered his blaster and unclipped his lightsaber as they got closer, exchanging them for the pad and pass with Jango.

“Just in case,” he said. Never underestimate a trained force-user, even while muffled, after all.

Jango grunted in return and they finally came across the last cell.

Obi-Wan looked through the one-way glass and froze.

Anakin.

He felt like crying.

“Cyare?” Jango asked, putting his hand on Obi-Wan’s arm.

His Anakin. A burn scar on his neck, a prosthetic arm, and a brace on his leg that he didn’t recognize. But still his Anakin. Cuffed and glaring and alive and here.

After a moment more of drinking in the sight, he opened up Anakin’s file and shakily began inputting data, dictating the information to Jango.

“Anakin Skywalker. He/him/his. Human. Approximately 23 standard years old. Exact date of birth unknown. History: Born to Shmi Skywalker on Tattooine. Slave until nine years old. Mother died of local virus two days before found by Jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn and Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. Former Padawan of Knight and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Jango hugged him, kissing his temple and murmuring assurances.

“ _I didn’t… I didn’t get to see them knighted,_ ” Obi-Wan said, a little broken, “ _I didn’t think I’d see them again._ ”

“ _But you are. And you get to do more than just see them. They’re like you were, so long ago. They can make a real home here. Like you have. You just need to convince them_ ,” Jango soothed, “ _First though, you should reunite. And assure them that you’re not dead. The anger they’ve shown… They still grieve you when they don’t have to. At all_.”

Obi-Wan felt himself calm down at Jango’s words, then felt excitement beginning to bubble up. Anakin could be Mandalorian! He needed help to do so, though, and Obi-Wan could do that, was probably the best option for it, in fact.

“Padawans and masters are similar to children and parents, correct? That would make him something of a child, er, son to us,” Jango observed, “well, if he can be convinced to embrace being a Mandalorian, at least.”

“He will. I’ll make sure of it,” Obi-Wan said. Mind already racing at the best way to do so.

It would be hard to tell, Anakin was being belligerent, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how his attitude would change after knowing his dead master was not in fact dead.

Ah, well, nothing but to go in and let him know then figure it out from there.

Obi-Wan took in a calming breath before drawing Jango into a quick kiss.

“ _I’ll be out here the whole time, okay?_ ” Jango assured him.

Obi-Wan nodded before turning and using the pass card to open the door.

He walked through the door, instantly feeling the force muffle. Anakin’s cuffs would render him almost force-blind, just enough force sense allowed to not cause panic or pain.

Anakin was purposely leaning back with his eyes closed, clearly trying to play unaffected.

He never was good at that. Or acting in general. But especially that.

Obi-Wan set the pad down on the table and quietly made his way around as Anakin opened his mouth, prepared to speak.

Obi-Wan leaned over him before he could talk, his own shadow causing Anakin to pause.

Anakin opened his eyes glaring, but almost immediately switched his expression to wide-eyed disbelief, mouth gaping.

Obi-Wan smiled.

“Hello, Anakin, dear.”

Anakin’s chair fell forward onto all four legs. He stared for a moment before his face contorted into a primal rage, complete with a matching growl.

“Even for maggots like Mandalorians. This is a low blow. I had no idea you had so little respect for the dead,” Anakin accused as he decisively looked away, disgust trembling through his frame. And fear.

Obi-Wan sighed.

“We have a perfectly reasonable amount of respect for the dead. As well as respect for parent-child relationships and similar. Of course we work towards reuniting when we can. And I didn’t think I’d ever reunite with you, my little nova,” Obi-Wan explained gently, before glancing down and continuing while gently touching the new scars and injuries, “although I would have preferred for it to happen with you in better condition.”

Anakin bristled, his emotions becoming so much in the force. So many. He had forgotten how overwhelming Anakin’s emotions could be. To both himself and those around him. Anakin seemed to work himself into a small frenzy

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin roared, finally looking back at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan startled back a little.

“Well, I suppose “big nova” would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it,” Obi-Wan said, small smile on his face as he let his finger run through the patch of hair that used to house Anakin’s padawan braid.

Anakin snarled in response as he leaned away.

“Don’t touch me! And you’ve got him all wrong. Master never would have worn those colors, let alone animal skins. And all the propaganda was edited. He was much lighter than you look right now, kriffin' shifter,” Anakin declared haughtily. And angrily. Obviously Anakin hadn’t ever quite managed to get that completely under control.

But that was fine. Anger could be used. And there was nothing wrong with being a little hot-blooded. Not here.

The accusation of not being himself still hurt a bit, though.

“You really don’t believe I’m me? People change, Anakin,” Obi-Wan cajoled, meaningfully touching the prosthetic arm. Anakin flinched, “I can take off these cuffs, if you want. The force will still be muffled, but you’ll know I’m me.”

Jango sent an uncertain bit of worry and support through their new bond. He was still a little shaky on using it, since he had no other experience with the force that direct. But he had been so open to the idea when Obi-Wan explained that it was naturally forming and would take continuous effort to avoid.

Obi-Wan sent back a wave of trust and felt Jango settle a little bit, determination coming to overlay his small bout of nervousness. Jango probably already had three plans to contain Anakin in case this went wrong and a rubric to figure out when to use them.

Anakin eyed him warily but put his cuffed hands onto the table. Obi-Wan smiled at him again and took out a master key for this kind of cuff from a pocket.

He carefully undid them, guiding Anakin’s hands out gently, metal and flesh. It was unnecessary, but he had missed Anakin so much, wanting to touch him, hold him, was perfectly understandable.

Anakin took a few deep breaths before throwing his head into his hands and beginning to sob.

Obi-Wan quickly bent down, ignoring his protesting back, and hugged him.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. We’re back together. I’m not dead. You’re going to be okay,” Obi-Wan reassured him.

He continued as Anakin hugged him back, still sobbing.

“I thought- They said... You were missing for so long- I-I-,” Anakin stammered, devolving into sobs, unable to actually say he had thought Obi-Wan was dead.

Obi-Wan shushed him, running his hand through Anakin’s hair to soothe him.

“It’s alright, Ani. You don’t have to say it. I’m here now. That’s what matters.”

And it was true. A few years separation didn’t really matter when Anakin had him back now. And Anakin was in an integration program. Neither of them were going anywhere, they didn’t have to leave ever again. This was home for both of them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I always assume Anakin developed a vendetta and pushed too far and died in the main fic, but a lot of y'all wanted him to reunite/hear about Obi-Wan, so here you go!
> 
> Mando'a:  
> riduur - spouse | often translated as mate in this AU, due to reasons, and isn't assumed to always mean romantic partner  
> Olarom Nora, cyariduur - Welcome back, sweet spouse | cyariduur is a portmanteau of cyare (beloved)/cyar'ika (sweetheart) and riduur (spouse) that I made up for a pet name because I think it's cute. If anyone else is writing in Mando'a feel free to use it!  
> ner - my/mine  
> 'lek - yeah  
> buy'ce - helmet  
> Osik - dung (impolite) | AKA shit  
> cyare - beloved


	6. Captured by Sith 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate meeting in this AU, not that Jango and Obi-Wan meet this chapter, but they will next time!
> 
> Basically, instead of evacuating a moon and staying behind to ensure success, thereby getting abducted by pursuing Mandalorians, Obi-Wan is abducted by Sith. And also Boba exists and is Jango's son.
> 
> Content warnings for: imprisonment, many open wounds, and implied past + threats of more torture

Obi-Wan lifted his head at the sounds of struggle. A high voice, probably from being far away, accompanied them.

He waited and was surprised at how quickly the Sith came with their new prisoner.

The surprise was wiped away by horror as he watched them throw a small child into the cell across from him.

The child didn’t seem to be bleeding, though Obi-Wan could see the beginnings of a bruise on their head and handprints on their neck. Dark likely Mandalorian-style clothes, tan skin, dark hair, humanoid.

That was all Obi-Wan registered before the Sith acolyte used the force to push the child back in the cell. He heard what were likely thermal-seeking chains clamp on and the child started shouting anew.

“Oh, don’t you worry. You won’t be here long,” the other acolyte said, which did not bode well for the child, and the two left.

Obi-Wan heard the child yell out curses and insults, some in what was definitely Mandalorian, for two minutes before giving up.

Obi-Wan was pretty sure he preferred those to the soft sniffles and cries the child was obviously trying to hide that came after.

He looked around what little he could, but there wasn’t anything new. There wasn’t anything he could use.

His clothes were in tatters from numerous small lacerations, most of the blood already dried. For the moment. He tensed his muscles anyways.

None of the chains gave. The ones on his arms and legs holding him spread eagled and aloft, completely taut. The one on his neck wasn’t quite as tight, allowing him to lift his head or turn it slightly sideways. And his muzzle was as tight as ever.

His cell, from what he could tell, was small, stone, and empty except for the drain that was both his toilet and sink for the blood.

He knew the chains were force-suppressing and thought maybe walls were too.

There was no way for him to deactivate the ray shield or get himself to the floor.

Nothing had changed, except for the poor child now across the hall, who hopefully would not end up in as bad of a way as he was.

At the very least, he couldn’t see the child, so maybe they weren’t being held off the ground, and the cell across did not have a drain in the floor. In fact, sometimes Obi-Wan thought he saw the corner of a cot.

 

()()()

 

Boba tried to quiet his sniffles. He didn’t want to look weak near the Sith.

He looked around the cell they had put him in. There was a cot, a toilet, a sink, and the manacle that connected his ankle to the back wall. Nothing else.

He tucked his head back into his knees. This wasn’t what his first observation was supposed to go like. But the Sith had appeared where they weren’t supposed to and Grot had barely had time to get him in an escape pod and out of the ship before he watched the Sith blow it up and now he was here.

His buir would come for him. He knew it. He didn’t have any reason to cry like a little kid.

When the tears threatened to start spilling again, he wiped at his eyes and turned his head to the side, trying to find something else to concentrate on.

He did a double-take as he finally looked into the cell across from him. Most of it was in shadows, like his own, but he could see two humanoid feet, plus a bit of shin, attached to chains that pulled them apart.

There was a third chain that went up into the darkness. Boba wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was doing.

The feet and legs had a lot of dark patches on them, plus a few lines, that made Boba guess it was blood. But everything looked red through the ray shields.

He looked around his own cell again, comparatively luxurious, then back at the other prisoner, who still hadn’t moved, let alone said anything.

He buried his head back in between his knees and whimpered.

He wanted his buir.

 

()()()

 

Four “meals” after the child was imprisoned, so about three days, if Obi-Wan had figured out his feeding schedule correctly, three Sith acolytes deactivated the ray shield and stepped into his cell, one, a humanoid, already holding out a crackling electro-staff.

He had stopped struggling as they transported him a while ago, needing to conserve his strength. As far as he knew, his resulting too-weak-to-struggle-act was working, which meant they didn’t expect him to use any energy and also didn’t give as over the top precautions as they might otherwise.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed through the process of lowering him, which was always painful.

The three suddenly stilled, and Obi-Wan lifted his head and opened his eyes. After a moment, he could hear two other sets of feet.

The acolyte, a mirialan, that had unhooked and was holding his neck chain handed it over to the one actually lowering him, stepping back into the hall.

“Halt. What are you doing down here?” they demanded.

Two more acolytes appeared in his view.

“Darth Sidious is requesting the brat’s presence,” said one haughtily. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but widen his eyes. The acolyte with the electro-staff turned their head and leered at him.

Darth Sidious’s sessions had been… far from Obi-Wan’s favorite experience. To put a child through that…

The leader of his acolytes looked them over for a moment, obviously trying to posture, before nodding.

“Fine. But don’t get in the way. We’re transporting a _dangerous_ prisoner,” they said, turning away and walking back into his cell for the chain again, missing the other two rolling their eyes.

As his feet finally, painfully, touched the ground, the mirialan tugged him forward.

“Come on, Jedi, Darth Plagueis has questions,” they sneered. Better him than the child. Sidious was, in many ways, the lesser of those two evils.

But still very evil, he was reminded as he heard the child scream and struggle as they were pulled out of their cell.

“Let me go! I’ll kill you! Buir will-“

The child’s next desperate threat was cut off as one of their escorts back handed them to the ground.

Obi-Wan felt something surge up in him. He felt like throwing up.

The child-beater startled and looked back at him, light saber snapping to a dead-red life. Obi-Wan distantly registered that he was growling as his humanoid guard shouted at a warning.

Time slowed, it seemed to Obi-Wan, to a crawl as he lunged at the one holding the useful weapon.

He held his chain out and forced it through the lightsaber, severing it. He kept hold of the part connected to the Mirialan and twisted it forward, using it to make a crude restraint around his main opponent’s wrists and taking control of their lightsaber.

He used his momentum to keep turning as he brought the saber up to his neck, registering the other four closing in on him, weapons drawn, as he used it to cut off his collar.

The resulting swell of force pushed the acolytes back and kept the child on the floor.

He couldn’t afford mercy or peace right now, not if he wished to save the child.

He quickly dispatched the acolytes before they could stand, the Mirialan being the only one who managed to look up at him before he was attacking.

He quickly deactivated the lightsaber as alarms started blaring, registered his injuries enough to release the pain into the force and turned back to the child as he ripped off his muzzle.

 

()()()

 

Boba felt himself fall to the ground, hard stone, somehow colder than he felt after two and a half days imprisoned, and didn’t even have time to start pushing himself up before he heard a shout.

The next thing he knew, he was getting pushed down into the floor again, kriffing force users.

By the time he got his breath back, there were alarms yelling.

He felt arms wrap around him and pick him up. He immediately started struggling, opening his mouth to yell as he kicked.

“Please, we need to find somewhere to hide, please don’t fight me on this,” came a raspy whisper, gentle and desperate.

Boba stilled as he looked up to see a pale-skinned humanoid. Well, pale where they weren’t covered in blood or bruises or who knows what. Their eyes may or may not have been glowing blue, definitely not the yellow or rare red he’d seen from his captors. A few rags, obviously once clothes, clung to their skin.

The prisoner across the hall.

Boba held on tight, wanting to get out as soon as possible and go back to his buir.


	7. Solitary Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After giving up the coup, Obi-Wan wakes up in a new place.  
> In this version, however, it's not Jango's room he wakes up in. It's solitary confinement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made this for Whumptober, it's crossposted with all of that as well. The prompt was Isolation.  
> Also, all italicized dialogue is them speaking Mando'a, hence Obi-Wan's bad grammar.  
> Enjoy!

When Obi-Wan regained consciousness, his brain took a moment to fully wake up. When he remembered what he had done, Obi-Wan automatically felt out with the force, trying to figure out how much trouble he was in.

But there was nothing. Nothing but himself.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly to see an unfamiliar room.

It was… dim. Half-lit from a few inset lights in the floor and ceiling. The walls were light grey and padded. And apparently more force null than his last room’s.

The cot he was on was sticking out from the wall as a light grey plastoid rectangle, with rounded edges and light grey sheets.

He couldn’t see anything else. Not even a door.

Jango had said he’d be punished, but not killed. Maybe this was part of it? Or was this just a holding cell for until he was supposed to testify at whatever trial the coup got?

Obi-Wan sat up slowly, jerking to look at one corner when he heard a light hissing. A toilet and sink were now popped out of the wall. Also light grey.

There was nothing else.

Well, except his clothes. Which were definitely not what he had selected at any point in his life. Dark blue, a bit baggy, soft. Sleep clothes, Mandalorian style, most likely.

After about an hour, Obi-Wan got up and paced the room.

After half an hour of that, he sat back down on the bed.

An hour after that, as he lounged on the cot, he saw some panel in the smooth ceiling lower, bringing down a tray of food.

Twenty minutes later, the panel lowered again, and Obi-Wan put his empty tray on it.

 

* * *

 

The lighting didn’t change, even as Obi-Wan meditated through what his body thought was night.

He got two meals the next day. Spent all the other hours pacing and meditating.

On the coup. On what has happened. On possibilities moving forward. On what exactly this solitary confinement would entail.

He meditated instead of sleeping again.

 

* * *

 

Three meals the next day. More mediation, more pacing. He let himself fall asleep that night.

* * *

 

Two days after, with still no changes, but even more sporadic meal times (he’s pretty sure that the distance between getting fed is different each time. His stomach can’t quite adjust, and he’s starting to lose track of hours), he decided to be stubborn.

When the panel came down to put his tray back Obi-Wan refused.

After a minute, gas filled the room.

He woke up, some unknown time later, to see no tray, and nothing else changed.

* * *

 

After that, he really began to lose track of time. It didn’t help that his meals didn’t seem divided into any normal breakfast, lunch, or dinner foods, let alone times. And the lights never changed. He wasn’t sure when to sleep. His body didn’t seem to particularly care anymore.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, he fell into a new pattern. Get up, eat, pace, meditate, either go back to sleep or eat, repeat.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again. To see light grey swarm his vision. Again.

He got up and ate his food when it was delivered, then went back onto the cot and let himself nap again. He hadn’t been able to find anything to meditate on for the last few cycles.

 

* * *

 

His world was light grey. A bit of color in his clothes, the blue still somewhat comforting. A bit of color and variation in his food, the only interesting thing in the room. And nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan couldn’t particularly bring himself to move for a moment when the lighting brightened. Then his brain registered the new stimulus, and some part of his brain knew he’d needed this kind of thing for a while, but Obi-Wan couldn’t focus on that right now, and he sat up faster than he remembered doing for a long time.

A humanoid at the door. Which hadn’t existed before. It took a moment for Obi-Wan to register that it was Jango.

The man walked into the room, until he was standing in front of Obi-Wan, then reached out and put his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan closed his eyes at the sensation, it was a lot to deal with after… after…

“ _Are you ready to come out now?_ ” Jango’s voice startled him out of trying to think, louder than anything he’d heard in a long time.

Obi-Wan licked his lips and swallowed before attempting to speak, “ _Out?_ ” oh, his voice was a bit raspy. He hadn’t spoken once while in the grey room. He hadn’t seen the point.

Jango removed his hand and Obi-Wan felt himself start to chase it before stopping himself and opening his eyes.

“ _Yes, you needed time by yourself, to get rid of the traitors’ influence,”_ Traitors? Oh, right, the coup. They had tried to kill children. Why had he ever listened to them? _“Are you ready to come out and finish becoming Mandalorian now? Or do you need more time in here?”_ Jango asked. Obi-Wan felt himself stiffen at the idea of staying in the room. But on the other hand…

 _“I do not… know if I can. I think I might be slow now. It took me very long, yes?”_ Kriff, what day was it? How long had he been in here?

A hand started running through his hair. Obi-Wan shuddered at the new, unexpected sensation.

It was not unpleasant, once he got over how **_much_** it was.

“ _Don’t worry,”_ Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Jango smiling at him, “ _we have a special track planned out to get you reintegrated as quickly as possible. You’ll be working at your own pace. With a few extra bits so that this doesn’t need to happen again.”_ Jango kept petting his hair for a few more moments as Obi-Wan absorbed that information.

“ _So, are you ready? Do you want to come back out now, or do you want more time in here?”_ Jango asked. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but whine.

“ _Out. Please. Don’t like here. Will try hard outside,”_ Obi-Wan promised, desperate.

Jango chuckled before he stopped petting Obi-Wan, quickly moving to help the man up from his cot.

“ _Don’t worry, I know you will_ ,” Jango reassured him as he led Obi-Wan towards the door. Obi-Wan didn’t need the support Jango was forcing him to put on the other man’s body, but he went along with it.

But then they were out in the hall, which was too bright, but at least it wasn’t **_grey_** , and Obi-Wan was very glad for the support as Jango let him turn further and hide his face in Jango’s neck.

Almost as glad as he was to follow Jango from the room, to wherever the man was leading him to.


	8. Break by Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU in which there is no coup, so Obi-Wan and Wenuve actually attempt escape. And fail. And attempt escape. And fail again. Until the Mandalorians decide to use some more... drastic, old-fashioned measures.
> 
> Written for the Whumptober prompt: Humiliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: forced public nudity, forced nudity of a modesty-dress/hijabi-coded character, nonconsensual touching, imprisonment/restraints
> 
> Italicized dialogue is in Mando'a, as per usual

Obi-Wan stared, face completely neutral.

Phas Wudo stared back, face calm and displeased, but not the worst disappointed face he’d ever seen. That was of course aided by the fact that he didn’t particularly care about disappointing her.

Beside him, Wenuve was still tapping her fingers on the table in increasing irritation, her leg starting to twitch as well.

Ms. Wudo sighed.

“You do realize that those bins are marked biohazard for a reason, right?” she said, her voice stern and her force presence resigned. Obi-Wan shrugged.

“You weren’t expecting it,” he said, letting his tone and face taunt where the words themselves did not.

Ms. Wudo looked between him and Wenuve several times. Obi-Wan was admittedly a little worried this time, the past three times after an escape attempt, they had been kept separated for a while. Having them together for the post-recapture interrogation probably meant a change in pattern, and the Mandalorians definitely had the upper hand there.

“Look, can we please just get this over with? Kriff, you two never just talk straight. Obi-Wan and I aren’t integrating, blah-blah-blah, why not, we don’t want to, blah-blah-blah, extra lessons, can’t talk to each other for a few weeks, blah-blah-blah, isn’t the empire nice, blah-blah-blah, we all glare at each other until you sigh, say our escape route won’t work, and leave. Now can we just skip all that? I’m bored of this dance,” Wenuve complained, banging her head down on table.

Ms. Wudo stared for a moment before sighing again, almost like she was humoring Wenuve.

“This is the fourth time you two have tried to escape together. We thought that after last time you two had learned your lessons. We obviously need to take more drastic measures. If you do not promise, and then make good on that promise, to stop trying to escape and to put more effort into integrating, then we will resort to… older methods,” Ms. Wudo said.

“What the kark do you mean, older methods?” Wenuve asked, lifting her head from the table to look at Ms. Wudo liked she’d spontaneously grown wings.

“Methods from a time when, for various reasons, we did not always respect a person’s rights as much as we do now,” Ms. Wudo replied.

Obi-Wan let out a snort at that, but did no more as Phas Wudo’s gaze flickered over to him before moving back to Wenuve.

“Well?” she asked.

Obi-Wan just lounged further back in his chair while Wenuve started cackling.

After a few moments of this, Ms. Wudo gave them a small smile and nodded, “So be it,” she said before standing and leaving the room.

A few seconds later gas started to fill the room. He and Wenuve stayed calm for it, unfortunately used to how much the Mandalorians liked to knock them out.

 

* * *

 

This time when Obi-Wan woke up, it was with force mufflers on. Not enough to cause him distress or health issues, but enough that most trained Mandalorians would have a fighting chance against him.

With the restraints he could feel holding him spread eagled and angled slightly down, there was almost no chance that he would be able to do something in time to not be countered.

He was also naked.

He opened his eyes to find himself in some sort of small forum-like room. There seemed to be multiple hallways that led to it, a few places to sit, plenty of open space to meet and talk. There were a few Mandalorians in the room, a few were socializing, a few working on their own. There were also two Mandalorians in front of him, obviously guarding, and another if turned his head a bit and glanced to the side.

There was one on his other side too, he was fairly sure, but he looked away as quickly as he could when he caught sight of Wenuve beside him, treated in much the same way. Bound, naked, on display.

She also looked, from his quick accidental glance, to have something painted on her face. As a bit of a cross breeze hit the room from one of the hallways, he felt parts of his face cool like they also had paint on them. It felt like there was a stripe painted across his eyes, connected to another strip that went down his face. Nothing on his forehead, though.

They had painted Mandalorian T-visors on their faces.

 

* * *

 

After what Obi-Wan was pretty sure was about half an hour, he heard Wenuve groan, followed by a small gasp and then silence. He could feel discomfort and fear and shame emanate from her.

“Wenu-” Obi-Wan stopped trying to comfort her when he saw one of the guards shift for a weapon. As soon as he closed his mouth, the guard relaxed. No communication, then.

A few minutes later, Phas Wudo entered the room and then his line of sight. She lifted his chin so he would make eye contact with her.

“ _As I said before, promise no more escapes, and effort at integrating,_ ” she said. Obi-Wan huffed at the demand, “ _rules until you do are don’t try to escape from this, or we will make it worse. You can speak in Mando’a or you can be gagged. The guards only interfere if needed, and any other Mandalorians have free reign,_ ” she explained.

Obi-Wan felt himself grind to a halt, internally. This was not good.

He heard Ms. Wudo repeat her explanation to Wenuve before leaving.

Phas Wudo’s explanation seemed to be some sort of signal, because some of the Mandalorians started getting closer.

The next few hours tested Obi-Wan’s fortitude in a way he hadn’t had to deal with in quite some time.

Although in some ways, this was better than some of the things politicians had done to him over the years, in the sense of looking at him like a piece of meat and ignoring his personal space, the Mandalorians weren’t interested in him sexually, at least. And they seemed to have more care about not harming him than many people he’d had to do deal with as a Jedi. But that did not change the fact that they were coming up to him, talking with each other about what a good Mandalorian he was going to make, how cute he was in his defiance, and throwing in a few other random praises.

They also had a tendency to pet his hair. A few also took to stroking his side or back. Once in a while someone would test his muscles or touch his face as well. But mainly, there was a lot of petting and playing with his hair.

It was a little humiliating, which was more than shame than he’d felt in a long time, to be honest. He just hoped that Wenuve was getting far less physical attention than him. She was constantly a muffled maelstrom of shame and distress beside him, but she only rarely unleashed a spike of disgust and fear that he could feel. Obi-Wan hoped those were the only times she was touched.

He certainly heard her being talked about too much for his liking, even if it was less than him.

 

* * *

 

On the third day, after their morning walk and bathroom break, he heard Wenuve break.

Obi-Wan let himself be shackled back up, stoic and cold to his guards as usual, but he heard Wenuve hiccup and start begging.

“Gedet’ye. Gedet’ye, nayc, gedet’ye,” she said, voice trembling.

Obi-Wan was tempted to tell her to stop making a scene, please, before Phas Wudo came for her daily check in, but he had resolved to not speak in Mando’a again, and doubted he could say everything before the guards stopped him.

Especially once he felt Ms. Wudo enter the forum.

“ _Is there a problem?_ ” she asked, calm.

“ _I- I don’t want… Please. I can’t…”_ Wenuve trailed off.

“ _If you don’t want to do this anymore, you know what you need to promise,_ ” Phas said, Obi-Wan grimaced at that. They had gotten Wenuve, the poor woman.

“ _I won’t… I won’t try leaving again. And I am… um… will try in classes. I promise_ ,” Wenuve said, voice still shaky.

Obi-Wan saw Wudo cross his line of sight while taking off her coat, probably to give to Wenuve. He still closed his eyes as they crossed back across the room. They stopped at one of the rooms exits.

“ _And you?_ ” Wudo asked.

Obi-Wan just smiled back, eyes still closed. Phas Wudo, and all the other Mandalorians, hadn’t actually seen how stubborn he could be yet. It would be interesting to show them.

 

* * *

 

After a week, he was denied his morning walk in exchange for being forcefully cleaned. Despite the restraints, he was cleaned distressingly gently.

He was tempted to fight the reapplication of his paint, but Kanvined, because of course they got Kanvined, must have seen something of his intent and informed him that they had a face clamp to restrain him if necessary. So Obi-Wan let him reapply the blue paint without much fuss.

He continued to not fuss as he was brought back to the forum and strapped back into his restraints. At least they had managed to keep kids from this area, he reflected, it would be a bit difficult to explain it to them.

An hour later, he felt Jango Fett enter the forum and approach him from behind as everyone but his guards left. Perhaps he was getting Jango’s attention today instead of Wudo’s.

Kriff. No. Fett’s. Fett’s attention. A few dinners and discussions about students did not a Mand’alor unmake.

Fett stepped in front of him and reached a hand out. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt the man in front of him grab his chin lightly, a thumb running under the line of paint covering his eye.

“ _You continue to show impressive spirit, but is this stubbornness really worth it? What do you expect to get out of it?_ ” Fett asked, thumb still stroking Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stayed silent.

“ _If you would talk to us about it, we’d be more than happy to help you settle whatever you need to accept your home here. Being in this position is tiring, I know, wouldn’t it be better to go back so that you can actually do something?_ ” the man soothed, trying to tempt Obi-Wan as his hand switched to running through Obi-Wan’s hair. Unfortunately for Jango, Obi-Wan wanted to back a bit further than discussing his students after Mando’a class. And they weren’t going to let him go back to the Republic. To the Jedi.

“ _As stubborn as we Mandalorians are, this is inevitable. And I know you’re smart enough to realize that. It will be much better for you to give in soon._ ” Jango continued, finally removing his hand.

Obi-Wan stayed silent.

“ _There are, of course, more ways to get you back to normal integration. More extreme methods that we haven’t had to use in some time, but will if that’s what you need.”_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at the Mand’alor, letting a sith-may-care smile grow on his face. The first real expression he’d shown in the past week. He took care to enunciate each syllable in exaggerated basic.

“I am a Jedi. Do your worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Gedet’ye. Gedet’ye, nayc, gedet’ye - Please. Please, no, please


	9. Returned and Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last of the Whumptobers! The prompt this time was "bound"
> 
> AU of Integration where Obi-Wan does escape at some point, after Jango starts really courting Obi-Wan but before Jango tells Obi-Wan he's courting him. But Obi-Wan is eventually reclaimed by the Mandalorians, so Jango gets his future spouse back anyways. And this time he means to keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: restraints/imprisonment, non-consensual touching  
> (A lot of implied really messed up stuff as well, Jango has lost a lot of his patience in this one)

It was hard for Obi-Wan to tell that he had woken up, let alone how long he had been awake. Eventually, however, he figured out that he was awake.

He just couldn’t feel much physically because he was bound in a stasis field, so he wasn’t able to move his body or touch anything. He also couldn’t feel anything in the force because he was completely force blind, he thought he might have been able to feel something around his neck for that, but he might have been imagining it. He couldn’t even see anything because he was blindfolded, everything completely black even when he was sure his eyes were open.

He’s not sure how long he was held like that. He might have even fallen asleep again a few times. He couldn’t tell.

He eventually heard a door open and someone enter the space, so at least he finally knew that there was nothing restricting his ears, he just hadn’t had anything to hear.

Suddenly, there was gravity again and he was falling. He tried to keep his balance as his feet hit the ground, but he must have been in stasis for an extended period of time because his legs automatically gave out, shaking, bringing him to his knees, causing him to throw a hand out to help balance.

It was then that he was finally able to notice the additional restraints around his wrists and ankles. His neck definitely had something foreign wrapped around it as well and he was able to hear some chains move in response to his fall.

He tried to catch his breath and slow his heart as he listened and waited, trying to figure out what the person who entered… wherever he was, was going to do next.

The next thing he realized was happening however, was that his arms were being pulled forward and together. He managed to pull them back enough to catch himself on his elbows instead of his face as he heard them get locked together.

He still tested to see if there was any give, any separation at all. But there was nothing, just the forced connection between his two wrists.

When he felt chains, probably connected to his wrist shackles, start to get wound around the rest of his arms, he finally started to struggle. He tried to pull his legs back and kick out as he drew his arms in, but he heard a beep before his legs, also definitely chained, got pulled back, his captor holding his arm chains strong enough that he was forced to lay flat on the ground.

The rest of his struggles ended up being similarly fruitless.

When his arms and legs were bound to his captor’s satisfaction, including looping the arm chains around his torso a few times, he was picked up and settled into their arms before Obi-Wan felt them move.

They moved into what Obi-Wan assumed was a hallway, and he could hear just enough ambient noises to figure out he was in space on a ship.

Obi-Wan distantly wondered if everything really was pitch black, or close enough to it, that there was no discernable lighting difference and his captor had some other way of knowing where they were going, or if whatever was covering his eyes actually worked that well.

Given that he doubted any sith would go that far for keeping him, literally, in the dark; Obi-Wan suspected it was the first.

Although… despite the violation of autonomy (chains, restraints, and otherwise) he had been treated unexpectedly well for a Sith’s prisoner.

His captor carried him for what seemed like a long time, and Obi-Wan heard variation in the noise, though not often near. But it let him know for certain that there were others on board the ship.

Once, he almost thought he heard someone shout “oya!” but… no, that couldn’t be right.

Eventually, they got to wherever his captor meant to re-imprison him. Obi-Wan felt them stop and heard the hiss of a door before they moved again.

A moment later, he was being forced to sit on a soft surface.

The chains on his legs were unwrapped first, one at a time, and Obi-Wan felt them get pulled across his shins before hearing them lock onto something.

His captor still hadn’t said anything. And without more information on who they were, he didn’t dare make his first move. Saying something wrong would tilt everything even further out of his favor. If he knew who was restraining him, had even a guess as to which Sith had captured him, then he’d have been able to work something out to start some sort of power dynamic.

Instead, he has had firm, gentle, silent actions. It communicated a dedication to keeping him imprisoned, a lack of omni-present malignance, and not much else. The lack of beating and/or gloating is what really made him flounder at guessing their identity.

Next, the chains around his arms. Once again extracted one at a time, but pulled the opposite direction of his leg chains.

His brain put the unfortunate conclusion together quite quickly. He had been chained to a bed.

With enough slack that he could still sit, which was curious, but Obi-Wan didn’t expect that to last long.

He felt arms reach around his head, and a moment later felt the blindfold shifting as it came off. He screwed his eyes further shut as light made it through even his closed eyelids.

Apparently, his captor had gone the extra mile in finding material to blindfold him with.

He felt a finger and thumb lightly grab his chin and tilt it up. Time to face the music.

Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes and froze once he adjusted to the light enough to recognize who was in front of him.

Because this was supposed to be impossible.

He’d escaped. Gone back to the Republic. The Jedi. All he had fought since was the Sith. Not even Hutt-related missions. He was either on Coruscant or fighting on the Sith front. The council had succeeded time and time again at keeping him from being sent anywhere with a risk of-

This shouldn’t have been happening.

“This was a much harder rescue than I wanted, Obi-Wan,” Jango said. Obi-Wan felt his world crash. Force or no force, Jango still had an undeniable presence, and he knew this voice so well. There was no denying who currently had him in their jurisdiction.

Being chained to a bed further pushed in the realization that he had taken months to realize with the help of his Jedi family.

“And the condition you’re in… They really can’t take care of you over there, can they? Can’t protect you,” Jango said. Obi-Wan snarled at the insult to the Jedi. They did what they could and how dare Jango try to divorce him from his home again.

Fett. Kriff. How was he already falling into old habits?

“And we obviously can’t trust you to take care of yourself either. Not right now, at least,” ~~Jango~~ Fett continued, heedless of Obi-Wan’s aggression, “You obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself any better,” he said, playing with the chain connected to Obi-Wan’s right wrist for a moment.

“We’ll be putting something into your curriculum to help with that, don’t worry. Until we get you through whatever module that is, though, these will have to stay,” Fett said, moving his hand from chain to manacle, to Obi-Wan’s actual arm, “understand?”

“Perfectly,” Obi-Wan said, snarling again, nose scrunched in disgust. Fett had probably moved forward with his grooming/courting as much as he did because Obi-Wan had been polite. Seemed receptive. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Except Fett smiled back at Obi-Wan’s response, seemingly pleased and amused and fully in tune with what Obi-Wan meant. There wasn’t a single thing about how Jango Fett looked at him that indicated he was out of touch with the reality of the situation as he leaned down towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan leaned back, instincts deciding the more vulnerable position was worth the distance. He stopped himself when he got down to his elbows, right wrist chain sliding across his stomach, and Jango just kept leaning closer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll reintegrate soon enough. Welcome back, ner kad’au,” Jango said, looking as pleased as the loth-cat who got the cream.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but freeze as Jango’s hand held his chin still and the man moved in for a kiss, his eyes already threatening to spill tears.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


	10. Captured by Sith 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says: Captured by Sith AU-of-the-AU part 2!  
> Boba and Obi-Wan are scarily competent, which works out in their favor.  
> Jango has to deal with his kid being captured by Sith, of which he is not in favor.  
> And I'm sure that Obi-Wan's future interactions with the Mandalorians won't in any way be affected by rescuing and taking care of Boba and gaining his favor. ;)

Boba woke up when the hunger got too bad. A painful clawing in his stomach, even as he felt his belly being inverted into almost nothingness. As it had felt like for a while.

Maybe today they could find food?

Boba looked up at Obi-Wan Kenobi, as the Jedi had introduced himself when they first escaped into the vents, and subtly pushed himself back into the other’s warmth a bit more.

The Jedi had been… Well, Boba wasn’t sure what he thought of him, besides better than the Sith.

He’d gotten Boba away from his captors, which was amazing given how injured the man was. He’d immediately decided the vents were the best way for them to move undetected, which Boba had thought was a bad idea, because the Jedi had been bleeding, and some species could smell that sort of thing, but Obi-Wan had said that the vents would take their scent all over the “temple” in low levels so that would actually make it harder to track.

He had been right. They’d been able to move for the rest of that day and the next through the vents undeterred, although a bit too slow for Boba’s liking. He wanted to get out of here!

But Obi-Wan said he only had a vague sense of where the exits were, let alone any with few enough guards for them to escape, let alone how close the vents could get them.

They’d at least been able to stop above a fountain yesterday and Obi-Wan had used some Jedi trick to get the water to flow up into their mouths when there was no one around.

It was still the weirdest water break Boba had ever had.

Today, they really needed to get food.

Boba let his gaze wander from the man’s face, still dirty and bruised but more yellow than black now where he could see skin, and looked over the other parts of Obi-Wan that he could see. It didn’t look like any of his cuts had reopened while they slept.

Boba felt himself let out a sigh of relief even as he felt conflicted.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He’d taken to just calling the man Kenobi in their few whispered conversations so he wouldn’t sound like he liked him. Jedi were pathetic Republic dogs. An enemy, not to be underestimated, but not as good as a well prepared Mando. They claimed to be better than the Sith but followed the senate’s orders and whims like aak pups and talked about their force like it was the great savior of the galaxy, despite it having no effect on most people’s lives. They were supposed to be more pathetic enemies on the battlefield. There for a challenge and a rush of adrenaline and nothing more.

But Obi-Wan had been way better than the Sith. He’d rescued Boba, been doing his best to protect him. He’d been gentle with Boba when he could, almost overly concerned about him. Boba could handle himself, he was ten! Except… well, after the Sith, he didn’t really mind Obi-Wan’s coddling, even if he’d rather have his buir’s.

He felt Obi-Wan take in a deep breath as he woke up.

“Alright, little one, let’s see how far we can go today,” he whispered, calm, even though Boba was pretty sure the man was still in pain and he could feel a slightly elevated heartrate at his back.

“Can we find food?” he whispered back, definitely not whining. Obi-Wan didn’t answer for a moment.

“We’ll see,” Boba thought of his hurting stomach, a little downtrodden, but knowing he’d rather be hungry than in a cell again, “but if there’s an opportunity, of course,” Obi-Wan added, as though he knew how awful starving felt to Boba.

Maybe Obi-Wan did, being a Jedi.

They started crawling along the vents again, Obi-Wan making Boba go in front to set the pace and keep an eye on him, quietly calling out when to turn once in a while.

 

()()()

 

“’Alor, please, calm down,” Akkus said, trying to sooth him. It didn’t work very well, considering ze was still blocking the door.

“I can’t! Ner ad… Ner ad- They’ve had him for a week!” Jango shouted, pacing his room. He’d been able to keep some semblance of control when planning, when with his people. But now, here, in his room with just Akkus, he couldn’t muster the energy to try to keep up the act.

“I know. And I know that telling you how strong Boba is won’t actually help, since we know how little it counts for sometimes. But, alor’ika, you need to have faith. Believe in Bob’ika. Believe in those plans we just refined,” Akkus soothed. It was a half-hearted attempt. They both knew how serious the situation was.

“Those demagolka’e could have alrea-”

“Jango Fett, you need to sleep!” Akkus yelled. And that made him stop short. Akkus almost never lost zer temper. Part of why ze’d ended up with so much responsibility over the years, even if some distrusted zem because of it.

Regardless, the fact that ze was yelling now… Jango took in some deep breaths as he stopped pacing.

“You haven’t slept for three days. You barely napped before that. As it is, we’ll be breaking through that citadel’s defenses tomorrow or the day after. We need you leading that charge. You and Boba both need you on that mission. That means you need enough rest to actually be combat ready,” Akkus said, tone back to zer usual calm and soothing. Jango let himself walk over to his bed and drop down onto it, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

“I know. I know, I just… Bob’ika is alone. He’s been captured by Sith and he’s only ten and he’s alone,” he said, looking up, finally letting the fear show on his face.

Akkus crossed the room, leaned down, and hugged him. Jango returned the hug after a moment, allowing himself the comfort of his old friend and mentor’s support.

“And he’s a fierce little commando, who takes far too much after his buir to be destroyed by Sith. And he’s waiting for us, so we have to meet expectations. Which means you need to sleep,” Akkus said, demanding, really, at the end.

Jango gave a small smile, “yeah, I know. I will.”

Akkus seemed to finally believe him and left.

Jango was almost tempted to get a data pad and work again, but… Akkus was right. Boba needed him well-rested enough to rescue him.

 

()()()

 

They had found water again, which Boba’s throat had appreciated, but Obi-Wan had said no to the only food they’d found, as it would apparently be too noticeable.

Who was going to miss one plate from this party the Sith were apparently throwing, anyways?

Still, he let Obi-Wan drag him back to the narrower side vent they had come from without fuss. He wasn’t foolish enough to do anything that would make too much noise.

“Little one, can you guess why they’re throwing a party right now?” Obi-Wan asked once they had apparently gotten far enough away. Boba just folded his arms and glared from where he was sitting between the man’s legs, facing him.

“Because they’re Sith, Kenobi. They gloat,” he whispered harshly. Obi-Wan sighed.

“Sometimes, yes. In which case, there were have been very obvious gloating, and more Sith lords, rather than just a few who were watching cautiously, weapons almost at the ready,” Obi-Wan explained, prodding. Boba put it together much slower than he’d have liked.

“A trap,” he whispered, wide-eyed. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Indeed, but that much food, so much molded and carved, usually means scraps. If we’re very lucky, we can find the kitchen. If we’re very very lucky, the kitchen won’t be a trap as well,” Obi-Wan whispered, nudging Boba down the vent, hopefully towards the kitchens.

 

The kitchen hadn’t been a trap, at least by the time they got there. By the time they found it, however, the droids who apparently worked the entire place had cleaned up almost everything.

Still, Obi-Wan managed to get a few scraps of bantha meat, three heels of bread, and a branch of some sort of berry that Boba didn’t recognize.

Obi-Wan made them travel a few minutes away from the kitchen before letting him eat.

He wondered if the Sith always prepared such good food, or if he just thought that because he was so hungry.

Obi-Wan tried to give him over half of the food, the di’kut. He’d growled at the man that he was more injured and bigger anyways until he stopped trying to feed Boba and split their goods equally.

Honestly, if Boba hadn’t been here the ridiculous Jedi probably wouldn’t have even bothered to get food while trying to escape. It was a good thing he had Boba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: actual escape. Possibly Obi-Wan and Jango seeing each other. Probably no Obi-Wan (or Boba) interacting with Jango. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	11. Captured by Sith 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says in the title. Also, definite content warning for canon-typical violence here. Time to fight with laser swords! (Eventually... by the end, at least...)

Obi-Wan watched the guards closely. This exit, unlike the one they had found last night, appeared to be a side gate.

He was quite suspicious of the low security. If the ambush party and other threats Obi-Wan had sensed were any indication, as well as the general emotions getting projected throughout the Sith temple, the entire place was still on high alert trying to catch them.

Surely, they wouldn’t have left an obvious exit, so clearly less-traveled, more out of the way, nearly unguarded? There had to be a trap or trick or-

Obi-Wan let his eyes widen, even as he kept the shields masking his and the child’s presences iron tight. A Sith trooper, armored, came in through the gate. Their armor reflected a rather… distorted image on one side.

A high Sith Lord, expert at masking their presence, especially with so much dark around, would provide plenty of security against an injured Jedi and child. Especially if they stayed out of sight until the fugitives erroneously played their hand.

Obi-Wan looked up, across the grate, towards the child, who still refused to introduce themself, and watched them look up, hope shining in their eyes.

Obi-Wan shook his head ‘no’.

The child looked crestfallen, and Obi-Wan felt the frustration start to bubble up. He quickly gave a bit more energy to their shields to make sure the flare was covered.

Obi-Wan gestured for the child to keep moving down the vent. Thankfully, after quietly maneuvering their body to turn around, they complied without complaint.

Well, third time’s the charm, wasn’t it? If they couldn’t find an exit that was safe enough to use, they’d just have to use something that wasn’t an exit. Obi-Wan thought that he’d seen enough of the place to understand the temple’s layout and architectural style. He was pretty sure he could manage this.

 

()()()

 

Obi-Wan let them get another drink before he decided that they should apparently be going up to escape. This seemed pretty dumb to Boba, but apparently the two gates before were too risky. Maybe the Jedi knew something about Sith buildings that he didn’t? Or maybe force users just liked having exits on multiple floors and Obi-Wan was betting on that, he thought sarcastically.

Regardless, he didn’t have a better plan than relying on Obi-Wan, so he braced against the sides of the vent and slowly pushed himself up another level.

They went up forever, and Boba could feel his body, sore and hungry and thirsty despite the few bits of relief they’d had the past few days, protesting with every inch he wiggled up. When they got high enough for Obi-Wan’s liking, he directed them through thankfully horizontal vents.

Obi-Wan stopped them in the middle of a section with a lot of smaller side vents

“Little one, could you go down the vent on your left and look into the room? See if there’s anyone, probably meditating on a mat if they’re in there,” Obi-Wan asked politely. His voice was shaking a bit, in that way adults did sometimes when they were nervous in front of buir but trying to keep it together. That was worrisome; so Boba agreed, even if he wasn’t sure why he was more likely to find a person on a mat than Obi-Wan unless it was a weird mat. In which case, he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it as a mat.

Still, Boba crawled through the side vent, a snug fit for him, so very tight, if not impossible, for Obi-Wan, and cautiously approached the grate at the end.

The room he could see beyond was somehow simple and extravagant. Small, with few things in it, but all of those things were either ridiculously dull and plain or over the top to the point that they looked useless.

Why would a mirror need that much decoration anyways? Wouldn’t it just get in the way of seeing the reflection?

As he looked around at the weird assortment of objects, though, he couldn’t see anyone. Or a mat. Unless…

There was a cushion thing that looked both uncomfortably hard and soft. Or rather, like stone draped in silk or some other soft fabric, without much, if any, padding. And ridiculous gold embroidery with tassels on each corner.

Still, no one he could see.

He backed up the vent, unable to turn around, and only flinched for a second when Obi-Wan grabbed an ankle to help pull him out into the bigger vent.

“No one. I saw the mat, I think, and no one was on there,” Boba whispered. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at that, apparently thinking, before nodding at him.

“Right, that’s good, if they were in meditation I might not have been able to sense them,” Obi-Wan whispered back, “good job, little one.”

Boba must have had some sort of look on his face at that, because a moment later Obi-Wan raised his brow and looked at him like his buir did sometimes when waiting for him to say something he was having trouble saying.

“I’m ten, I’m not that little. My name’s Boba, he/him/his,” he finally said, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. He and Obi-Wan had just spent a few days constantly within a few meters of each other. It felt weird and slightly offensive that Obi-Wan kept calling him ‘little one’.

Obi-Wan smiled at him softly and he looked aside. The Jedi was way too pleased just by getting to know his name. Were all Jedi this weird, or was Obi-Wan just extra weird like this?

“All right, Boba, we’re going to break into that room while there’s still no one in the hall, but there are others in the nearby rooms, so we still have to be quiet,” Obi-Wan whispered. Boba nodded back. He could finally stand upright again, thank goodness.

* * *

Boba couldn’t help but cry out as his feet hit the ground hard, despite the tilted walls giving him something to slide down instead of just jumping down. He was pretty sure one, if not both, of his ankles was sprained.

He felt Obi-Wan pick him up, just like the first time almost a week ago, and this time he automatically held on tight as Obi-Wan started running.

From the fresher attached to the room Boba had spied on, they had exited through a window, because that was apparently Obi-Wan’s first thought when faced with guarded gates. Sure, why not? Down two stories, helped by a quick towel-and-bedsheet rope and Obi-Wan catching him, then a dash across the lower roof as alarms started to blare to slide down five stories. And now Obi-Wan was dashing them off into an almost canyon-like rock structure, instead of towards the ships that Boba had instantly recognized as Mandalorian.

Boba didn’t fuss, just held on tight, as Obi-Wan zig-zagged through the narrow cracks in the rock, because this was a good hiding spot.

Eventually, Obi-Wan stopped and settled them down in a small alcove. Boba waited for the man to stop panting heavily before opening his mouth to talk.

“We’ll wait for the moon to set before making our way around the back of the temple,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing away from where Boba’s people were, before Boba could get a word out. And that was ridiculous.

“But there are people fighting against the Sith the other way. They’re looking for me! We need to go meet up with them!” Boba yelled. Was Obi-Wan trying to keep him away from the Mandalorians? From his buir? Was the Republic coming to pick up Obi-Wan and the man was trying to kidnap him?

Boba stood up, preparing to run, but immediately hissed and had to take the pressure off of his right ankle. Definitely sprained.

Obi-Wan quickly drew Boba down into his lap and started rubbing at the injured ankle.

“I know, but the Sith are looking for you too. For both of us. They’ll expect us to go that way. And I’m in no condition to risk fights when they’re avoidable. So I’m sorry, but we’ll have to go the long way,” Obi-Wan said, genuinely apologetic. He kept rubbing at Boba’s ankle, which was admittedly feeling a bit better, whether because of some sort of force nonsense or just lack of pressure was unknown.

Still, Boba found tears watering his eyes so he turned and buried his head in Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“I want my buir. I want to go home,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan.

“I know, I know. I’ll get you back, I **_swear_** ,” Obi-Wan said, the last word strangely weighty, it felt weird, but soothed something in Boba, made him really believe that he was going to get back to his buir.

Obi-Wan hugged him back and, at some point, Boba fell asleep.

 

()()()

 

Jango let himself take a moment to survey this side of the battlefield again as the hangar door opened, ship hovering in the air. He’d been forced to take a two-hour nap after switching over to this side of the battle, once the thicker side of the fighting had gotten under control, once he could leave that to Effao.

Now he was over here, at the part that was less guarded for some reason, well rested, with a few elite squads at his back.

Today they were breaking through the Siths’ defenses. Today they were going to rescue his ad’ika.

“Ready when you are, ‘alor,” came a voice over his helmet comm. Lovun, a newly made commander, he recognized after a moment.

Jango turned back around to survey his strike team and opened his mouth, only to be cut off by another voice over the comm.

“Possible… non-Sith? Spotted. Two robed humanoids, one approximately height of human adult, one approximately height of human child, pursued by multiple Sith. North-West. Half a kilometer,” someone from the control room said. Jango felt his entire body tense at the information. At the implications.

“One squad with me. Others start moving forward with the strike. Keep comms open at all times,” Jango ordered, already running towards the open air.

He leapt off into the battlefield, jetpack starting and flying him North-West. Confident that his force would follow directions well.

“Okay, the tall one just pulled out a lightsaber. It’s a bit short and white. I’m pretty sure that all Sith have red, though, and I don’t think Jedi can have whi- oh. Okay. White blade is engaged with multiple Sith, shorter figure is behind white blade, out of fight. The actual white blade keeps flashing red when it makes contact,” control room said. Which was… concerning, to say the least.

But the entire situation was concerning, so Jango didn’t bother to hesitate as he approached the small engagement that he could now see. And yes, that was definitely a white lightsaber flashing red. He had zero clues on what that meant for the wielder’s affiliation.

He knew he was fighting against the Sith, though, so he flew overhead and shot at them.

The Sith, of course, deflected most of them, only one hitting its mark on a Sith’s shoulder, making them drop their lightsaber. Thankfully, most of the deflected shots went wide, the only one that got close to him harmlessly deflected off of his thigh armor.

He saw the smaller figure look up, causing their hood to drop down and, yes, that was Boba.

On a battlefield with Sith coming at him, seemingly weaponless, but alive and out of their custody and right _here_.

Jango landed a few meters away on a rock, still shooting at the Sith, and watched his ad’ika watch the fight carefully before making a run towards him during a lull.

Except suddenly Boba was flying back into the not-Sith-maybe-Jedi’s arms and _how dare_ -

Jango aborted his charge to rescue his adi’ka as something at least twice as tall as him rolled through the battlefield. It would have crushed Boba, if he hadn’t been pulled back, Jango realized.

The yellow almost-ball quickly uncurled, clanking along the way as the armored skin of the battle hydra slid against itself and it settled into a crouch. Jango saw the not-Sith quickly glancing between the Sith on their one side, hydra on their other, and quickly closed the distance over muddy ground to stand between his ad’ika and the Hydra.

He felt Boba shift to stand between him and the not-Sith, his ad’ika lightly pressing against his back without holding onto him.

Hydras were tricky, but Jango had taken them down before. And his squad was probably less than a minute behind him. Speaking of…

“White saber is a temporary friendly. Dealing with about five Sith and a battle hydra. Bob’ika is currently between me and white saber,” he informed his people through the comm. He heard a chorus of cheers before someone managed to announce his squad’s 35 second ETA over the noise.

He didn’t really have 35 seconds though. He heard the white saber engage with Sith behind him as the two heads of the hydra reared back and sucked in a breath.

“Ears, Boba. Now,” he ordered as he braced himself.

He fired off a shot before the hydra’s scream physically held him back. It hit too low, the scales deflecting it into the ground.

As soon as the scream started to peter off enough that he could move forward, he charged forward two steps, to get Bob’ika out of the ignition zone, and fired off his jetpack, lifting off the ground.

As soon as he was at a good angle, he didn’t want to be further from Boba than necessary, he started firing at the juncture between the two heads. He managed to hit the heart or underside of the spine after about twenty shots, or maybe fifteen, hard to tell, and the creature let out a much less supernatural scream as it collapsed and seized on the ground.

He waited for it to mostly stop, just the tail twitching a little, before turning back the rest of the battle.

Boba was a few feet away from where he had left him, more directly between Jango and the white saber as the other engaged the Sith who were coming at him in pairs, oddly enough. Very ineffective, especially since they had gotten reinforcements at some point.

Or maybe threes, Jango thought as he switched to a full energy pack and started shooting at the other Sith. There was a body quite cleanly decapitated nearby that hadn’t been there before.

There were also the sounds of other jetpacks now, as his squad finally caught up. They flew in, shooting at the Sith, dodging expertly as Jango lowered himself to the ground. Boba turned around as he landed and the white saber turned with him, head flicking back and forth to try and watch all the players, obviously wary about whether or not Jango and his forces were going to attack them as well.

The person froze, however, and slowly turned back around, as if in fear, even though Jango’s squad had almost finished beating the Sith.

Jango understood why a moment later as an unnatural terror washed over his body, causing him to shiver. He saw his squad completely freeze as he brought out another blaster.

A Miraluka, draped in all black, appeared on the top of the mound closest to the Sith’s citadel. Their presence, somehow, seemed oppressive enough to silence the entire battlefield.

The white saber shifted to keep an eye on the new, obviously far more powerful Sith and Boba at the same time.

“Boba? Are these people...” the definitely not-Sith trailed off their question, though Bob’ika seemed to understand anyways, nodding back even as he kept his eyes locked on the new threat, trembling.

“Right… You all should get going, then,” white saber said, turning back to fully face the Sith.

They held out a hand and another saber flew into it and snapped on, red, before settling into what was clearly a battle stance.

“Really, Kenobi? Do you think you’re in any condition to face me right now?” the Sith said, lips curling back into a truly awful looking sneer.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out, won’t we, my dear?” Kenobi – surely the Jedi general, what other Kenobi could he be? – said, practically purring. And really, the fool was going to get himself killed, jeopardizing Boba’s and all of their escapes.

Jango put on the external mute, “Vojunn. Take Boba. Everyone get back to the ship. I’ll hold this one off,” he ordered. There was only a half-second of hesitation before Vojunn agreed, signaling a scattered chorus of worried agreements before he saw his people preparing to take off.

The Sith and Jedi were still staring each other down, like this was part of a kriffing action holo-movie.

Jango fired a small rocket mounted on his gauntlet into the ground below the Sith.

His people quickly took that as their cue, firing up jetpacks, grabbing Boba, and leaving as quickly as their armors could.

The Sith apparently hadn’t expected that and half-stumbled, half-jumped down off of their mound. Kenobi recovered from his surprise quicker and dashed forward. Which… really? Now Jango couldn’t get a clear shot at the Sith.

Still, Jango shot to the best of his ability, which was karking good on a bad day. After sleep, his child safe, but all the outrage and anger at his capture still rushing through Jango’s blood? He was a force to be reckoned, one that hut’uun Sith couldn’t manipulate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stopping the chapter here because:  
> 1\. Jango is about to go ham, which is a good tense moment to leave y'all hanging on  
> 2\. I want to do the rest of the battle in Obi-Wan's POV, so it was a good place to stop  
> And 3. This chapter is already TWICE as long as the others and I want to write other things for a few days... at least a day... A few hours of a break?  
> (I got bit by the writing bug, if you couldn't tell)


	12. Captured by Sith 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.  
> Also! Please remember that Italics mean the character is speaking in Mando'a, which is a gender neutral/non-gendered language, hence everyone being a "them" in it. Mandalorians don't really have pronouns besides me, you, we, "the other person", etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted as soon as finished. Maybe consider holding off until I actually edit out glaring typos sometime tomorrow. But if you don't feel like waiting, well... I already published it, I suppose

Kenobi got pushed away and down onto the ground after only half a minute of fighting. Jango charged, blasters blazing, as the Sith moved towards the man.

The Sith stopped and turned towards him, lightsaber whirling around and reflecting Jango’s shots. They raised an arm towards Jango and he watched, cautious but unsure what the Sith was trying to do.

He took a deep breath the second he felt a bit of pressure on his throat and continued his charge. Even as he struggled to breathe through the force choke, he kept shooting.

The second he was in range, he fired off a cable that wrapped around the Sith’s outstretched arm. The pressure on his neck released a moment after the electric shocks hit them. A neat trick he’d picked up from a duros bounty hunter a few years back.

A moment later, however, the Sith was actually grabbing the cable and pulling it around.

Jango didn’t have enough time to disconnect the cord until he found himself being swung around into the remains of an old stone wall. The choking sensation came back before he could stand up and he fired a few shots in a distraction attempt. He was starting to get worried as the Sith stalked closer to him when a blur launched itself into the Sith’s side, sending the miraluka rolling across the battlefield.

Jango spared a glance at Kenobi as he stood up and raised his blasters again, noted that he appeared to be barely standing, before focusing back on the Sith, who had already stood back up and was practically flying back towards them. Probably using their kriffing force again.

He registered Obi-Wan moving into a battle stance with his two sabers as he ignited his jetpack again. The Sith had to stop and use their lightsaber again as he flew over and started firing.

Kenobi ran in, making Jango pause his shooting, _again_ , and engaged with the miraluka.

Sabers clashed, and Jango found himself mildly impressed by Kenobi’s skill. Beaten and bruised as he was, skin a more colorful canvas than this entire planet it seemed, Kenobi was meeting the miraluka blow for blow, pushing them back more often than not.

Kenobi performed a holotext-perfect block and parry that let him attempt another strike as Jango heard a crackle of static as his comm turned on, “Mand’alor, your child is back on the ship, all forces are preparing for a retreat,” someone informed him.

Jango stayed for a moment, trying to see if he could get another good shot in at the Sith, before jetpacking back towards his ship when none appeared, leaving Sith and Jedi to fight to the death as they liked to do.

He made it back to the ship without issues and touched down, glad to see Vojunn holding Boba close to their side, a hand on Boba’s shoulder keeping him in place. Boba smiled in relief as he landed, face bright, despite how weary the child looked.

“Fall in!” an urgent voice yelled through the hangar’s comm system.

Vojunn tugged Boba back away from the hangar’s opening with them as Jango and everyone else ran and dove away from the opening.

Lightning started pouring in, probably frying a few machines near the entrance, and Jango winced as an astromech started screaming when it got caught in an offshoot. It kept screeching and whirling as it rolled out of the hangar at top speed, so it probably hadn’t been irreparably fried.

Jango wished he could run back across the hangar to close its doors, but he didn’t think his armor would survive the trip to the control panel.

Suddenly, there was another figure standing on the threshold of the ship, their shadow flashing across the hangar, dancing with the lightning despite the person themself staying completely still.

The lightning lessened, and a few moments later Jango’s helmet readjusted its lighting settings enough to see that Kenobi was the figure, and that he was using his white lightsaber to redirect the lightning back out of the hangar. The saber would occasionally flash red, like usual. And also blue and yellow and purple and a myriad of other colors, even black occasionally, and Jango had no idea what that meant, but he knew that if the lightning wasn’t pouring in then he could finally close the hangar doors and get them out of here.

He shot across the hangar to the control panel a few meters away from the door, quickly finding the right button and pressing it a few times for good measure.

He watched Kenobi continue to redirect the lightning as the doors started to close, strain clear on his face now that Jango could see it.

He chanced a glance to see that there was an ewok Sith throwing the lightning. They were standing next to the miraluka, who seemed to be missing their right arm from the elbow down. While he didn’t know the exact events, the implication of what Kenobi had accomplished after he retreated was impressive.

The ewok stopped shooting lightning at them as the doors closed more and more. Jango looked over towards Kenobi, the battlefield’s side in his view, which allowed him to see a turret fire a metal shell right towards them. The shields weren’t up yet, so even though the almost closed doors wouldn’t let it harm any people, the hangar would still take a hit and probably have to be airlocked and quarantined from the rest of the ship. Jango made to duck to avoid any repercussions when he saw Kenobi turn and hold out his hand.

The shell’s tip seemed to crumple as it slowed down exponentially, losing all of its momentum in the last second. Before the doors closed completely, Jango was pretty sure he saw it begin to freefall back down into the battlefield.

Jango quickly locked the hangar doors before turning on his comm to the ship’s frequency, “we’re all in, doors closed. Let’s get out of here,” he stated.

“’Lek, ‘Alor!” an enthusiastic voice responded.

Jango switched his frequency to a private one and called Akkus, “Akkus, we have Boba, we’re retreating for the day. Tell everyone to finish up their fights and come home,” he said, hearing a bit of pleasure slip into his voice. He officially had his ad back.

“Buir!” Boba cried out. Jango turned and knelt to hug his ad as the young one barreled into him at full speed.

He buried his head into his ad’s hair for a moment, enjoying the pure sensation of having Boba back in his arms again, safe, before looking up at the only unknown variable. Jango didn’t think that Kenobi trying something against his son was the most likely thing to happen now, especially as the man turned off his lightsaber and seemed to be mainly focused on trying to stay standing, but it was a possibility.

His people, at least, still looked a bit tense and ready to react to anything the Jetii might do.

“Bob’ika,” Jango said softly. Boba unburied his head from his buir’s shoulder to look at Jango directly, “who’s your friend?”

Boba was a brazen, inquisitive, outspoken ten-year-old. He would have no trouble telling Jango if Kenobi was indeed been anything but a friend.

Boba looked back at Kenobi quickly before his head swiveled back to Jango.

“He got us out. He was captured too. They were going to take me for interrogation and he killed our guards before taking me and running. He’s still really injured. I think they got to interrogate him a few times before we escaped,” Boba said, the last part in particular was very earnest, like Bob’ika needed him to know that Kenobi had been hurt.

Jetii or not, then, Kenobi had rescued his ad’ika and kept them safe. Unless he attacked, he was in no way an enemy.

“Don’t worry, Bob’ika, we’ll take care of him,” Jango said, pitching his voice a bit louder so that everyone else could hear. Kenobi tensed at that and Jango couldn’t blame him for thinking of less pleasant possibilities, not if he had been the Sith’s prisoner as long as his injuries and Boba implied.

“Two stretchers needed in Hangar Beta, Bob’ika and a Jetii will need at least a check-over after escaping the Sith,” Jango said into his com, making sure it was connected to the control room’s channel. He quickly received a somewhat trepid affirmative and a forty-five second ETA. They did bring enough injured in through the hangar to make sure the medbay was always nearby, after all.

Jango held Boba close as he stood up, and Boba clung tightly to him in kind.

“While I’ve seen some Jetii do some foolish things, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one foolish enough to refuse medical care,” Jango said. Kenobi narrowed his eyes, but shifted into a slightly less tense stance, before quickly glancing down at Boba and back to Jango.

“While I do find often myself enjoying the privilege of subverting expectations, in this case I don’t think a few bacta patches would be amiss, at least not ones provided freely” Kenobi said airily. Jango snorted at the understatement before addressing the suspicion.

“Even if you hadn’t just saved my kid, or gone through a bit of a living hell, I’d probably help you just on principle of wanting you to cause more trouble for the Sith,” Jango said. None of which was a lie, even if he also had to think about any Jetii’s potential to harm Mandalore when making those kinds of decisions. Regardless, Kenobi should have no reason to not accept medical care now.

“Fair enough,” Kenobi said, still with a slight undercurrent of suspicion underneath.

Four medics came in with two stretchers. Jango lifted Boba onto one when it approached, helping him lie down and giving his ad’s hand a reassuring squeeze as the medic not in charge of directing the stretcher started a brief check for obvious injuries. Jango let them all go and watched them leave for a moment before turning back to the Jetii.

It was taking Kenobi, both medics, and Vojunn to slowly put the Jetii on the stretcher. The man’s body was trembling with the effort of moving anything, it looked like. Through the entire thirty second process, the Jedi kept quiet, a calm, sedate expression on his face.

Jango watched as the medics passed him by with their new charge in tow, and so caught the look Kenobi sent him as he was floated past. It was very guarded and questioning at the same time, assessing, like a cornered animal that didn’t quite understand a person’s attempts were to help, not harm. The Jetii seemed to be caught between believing this was some sort of trick and the proof of what his situation truly was.

Jango watched the medics leave the hangar before finally making himself leave out a different door.

He was Mand’alor. He would just get in the medics’ way before actually helping anything. He also needed to make sure that the rest of this retreat would go smoothly. His ad’ika was not in danger of dying, was safe with his people and being taken care of, that would have to be enough for now. They could have a proper reunion later. When Boba was healthy and Jango had gotten them all safely away.

* * *

Jango walked out of the medbay a much happier man than he’d been the day before.

Boba was walking beside him, holding his hand, with a few bacta patches and a wrapped ankle and instructions to stick with soups or light foods for the next two days and nothing else. Boba hadn’t needed any other medical care, the evidence of his time with the Sith so insignificant that it would be gone within a week.

Kenobi, on the other hand…

The head doctor herself had been very blunt with the list of surgeries and bone settings they would have to do before sticking him in a bacta tank. Given the number of bones that were suspected or known of being broken or otherwise damaged, Jango found himself impressed by how much the man had been able to do, especially so well.

“Buir?” Boba asked, breaking the contemplative silence they had both fallen into.

“’lek?”

“ _What’s going to happen to Obi-Wan now?_ ” Boba asked, looking up at him with big worried eyes that really should not be so effectively wieldable by a ten-year-old.

Jango paused before answering, “ _right now we’re going to fix them back up, heal them. After they’re stable and far enough into recovery? I don’t know. The Republic will want them back, at least,_ ” he answered honestly.

“Oh,” Boba replied dourly, looking back down at the floor.

“Ad’ika?” he asked. Boba stayed silent for a moment.

“ _Do they have to go back?_ ” Boba asked, still looking at the floor.

“Oh?” Jango prodded, tilting his to the side a bit.

“ _Do we have to give them back to the Republic? They took care of me and fought for me and- Can… Can we keep them?_ ” Boba asked, looking back up with pleading eyes.

And it was quite a thought, to keep Kenobi with them, to keep him from going back to the Republic. The man was a fighter with resilience and survival skills and obviously placed an importance in at least protecting children. Jango would blame his elation at having Boba back for why he didn’t notice that Kenobi was ideal for an integration program.

And that was even before considering all of his accomplishments as the Republic’s famed Negotiator. Which could actually cause a problem, since they actually would like him back, but Jango was fairly certain that there would be no political maneuvering that would be worth not keeping Kenobi around.

“ _We should be able to. I’ll make sure and tell you tomorrow, but yes, we’ll try to keep them,_ ” Jango answered.

With the relieved smile his ad’ika gave him in return, however, Jango was certain that any obstacle to keeping Kenobi would be decisively overcome through any means necessary.


End file.
